Fatal Fanfic
by The Syndicate1
Summary: Finished! When the Hardys started reading Internet mystery fanfiction, it seemed like a lot of fun. Until strange coincidences began happening…and then it turned deadly!
1. Default Chapter

"What the heck?" Joe Hardy shoved a lock of blond hair away from his sparkling blue eyes, and peered at the monitor in surprised confusion. Seventeen-year-old Joe had logged onto the Internet to check out the latest chapter in a fanfiction story he had been keeping up with. Clicking on Favorites, he had hit the "fanfic" button at the bottom of the set, just as he had done last night before going to bed. But instead of the sci-fi fanfiction site he was accustomed to seeing, he found a list of authors and stories which seemed to have nothing to do with any form of science fiction.  
"What's wrong?" Frank, Joe's brother, walked into the den and leaned his 6'1" frame over Joe's shoulder to look at the screen and see what had aroused his brother's senses. His wavy brown hair tickled Joe's nose, as he got too close.  
  
Joe pushed the offending hair away from his nose, and rubbed a finger across it to stop the itch. "Did you save a new site on the Favorites list?" he inquired, looking sideways at Frank.  
  
Frank turned his head, his brown eyes meeting Joe's blue ones. "Nope," he said. "Is that all that's got you so upset?" Frank smirked and turned away.  
  
"Ha, ha, aren't we superior?" Joe sulked, turning back to the screen and accessing his site. Eighteen-year-old brothers can be a pain! he thought.  
  
"If you're going to be on there for a while, I think I'll go over to Callie's." Frank announced, mentioning the girl he had dated steadily for the past two years. "Jeez, I'll be glad when my computer's back from the repair shop!" he added. "I hate having to use this one all the time!" He glanced back at the computer setup on his father's desk.  
  
"Yeah, sure." Joe mumbled, already caught up in his reading.  
  
Frank shook his head and departed. Joe enjoys the computer so much, I'm surprised he hasn't saved up for one of his own! Then again, he thought, Joe never saves for anything. Money just seemed to burn a hole in his pocket.  
  
About thirty minutes later, the front door opened, and a lovely woman with blond hair and blue eyes entered the house. She dropped a bag by the phone table, and went into the den where Joe sat, engrossed on the computer. She glanced over Joe's shoulder to see what he was reading – and blushed.  
  
"Oh, Joe!" Laura Hardy exclaimed.  
  
"Huh?" Joe jumped, startled, and turned around. He hadn't heard anyone come in. "Oh, hi Mom. Have you seen this site? There are some pretty cool mysteries here."  
  
"Actually, I have." she replied. "I'm the one who book-marked it."  
  
"Have you read them all yet?" Joe asked, looking up into her blue eyes with interest.  
  
"No, not all of them," Mrs. Hardy admitted. "But most of them. There's a new author on the board who seems to be fairly popular with the message board crowd, that I haven't had the time to check out yet."  
  
"Which one?" Joe inquired, turning back to look at the monitor.  
  
"Mystique."  
  
Joe pulled up the story. "'Truth and Consequences,'" he read the title. "Oh well." He clicked on the first chapter.  
  
"Hon, before you do that, could you do me a favor?" his mother requested.  
  
"Name it." Joe said, keeping his eyes glued to the monitor.  
  
"The dry cleaners called me on my cell, just as I was pulling into the driveway." she said. "Would you please go and pick it up?"  
  
"No problem." Joe responded, and started to exit the website.  
  
"Umm…wait." Mrs. Hardy stopped him. "I think I'll check out what's been posted before I get busy."  
  
"Sure, Mom." Joe said, smothering a smile. So Mom likes fanfiction mysteries, huh? It was nice to know he had something in common with his mother other than their fair coloring.  
  
Joe went outside, and climbed into his mother's car. He couldn't pick up dry cleaning on his motorcycle, and Frank had taken the van.  
  
Frank arrived at Callie Shaw's home, and knocked on the front door. In seconds, it was opened by Callie herself, a tall girl with green eyes, and short blond hair that curled under at the edges. Frank smiled at the vision of loveliness in front of him, and leaned to kiss her lips lightly. "Hi, beautiful!" he whispered.  
  
"Hi yourself," she replied a bit breathlessly, when he pulled back. "What brings you over here on a school night?"  
  
"I was lonesome." he admitted, giving her a slow smile and looking deeply into her eyes.  
  
"Joe on the computer again?" Callie asked knowingly. Frank nodded. "My parents are home…" she said, lost in his dark, soulful gaze. "Why don't we go for a walk?"  
  
"Anywhere, with you." he assented gallantly, taking her hand.  
  
"Mom! Dad! I'm going for a walk with Frank, okay?" she shouted over her shoulder. An affirmative reply was given, and Callie closed the door behind her. They walked down the steps, hand in hand.  
  
They strolled along leisurely, in comfortable silence, happy to be in each other's company, until they reached the park. Entering, they made their way to the swings, and Callie sat down on the second one from the end. Frank gave her two big pushes, then took the end swing, and quickly reached the height Callie had been maintaining.  
  
"Isn't it wonderful?" she asked, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, as she held on tightly.  
  
"What…?" Frank murmured. His eyes were resting on a little boy with curly blond hair, that reminded him of a much younger Joe. The child was sliding down the big slide, into the waiting arms of his mother.  
  
"Frank." Callie said again. He looked over and found her sitting up, gazing at him.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "What's wonderful?"  
  
"Never mind," she said, laughing. "What's so interesting?"  
  
"Nothing, really. I was just watching that kid with his mother. Reminiscing."  
  
Callie looked over at the pair under discussion. Suddenly, her brow wrinkled in concern. "Frank, look…" she said warningly.  
  
Frank glanced at the boy and his mother. A German Shepherd dog had appeared on the scene, and was advancing threateningly on the twosome, growling and barking.  
  
Frank jumped off his swing and took off, waving his arms and shouting. The dog turned on Frank, growling. Frank halted and stared at the animal, as the mother and son scrambled up the slide, out of harm's way.  
  
The dog advanced on Frank a few feet at a time, his growl rumbling deep in his throat. Frank swallowed nervously. Wonder if it has rabies, or something? Suddenly, however, the shepherd's ears pricked up, and it turned and ran in the opposite direction.  
  
Frank heaved a deep sigh of relief, and wiped his forehead where beads of sweat had popped out. He hurried over to the slide, and helped the woman and her son to get down.  
  
"Are you two all right?" he asked in concern, as Callie came running up.  
  
"Yes, thanks to you." the woman replied, her hands trembling as she held tightly to her little boy. "Where did that beast go?"  
  
"It wasn't a beast," the little boy corrected his mother. "It was a doggie."  
  
"A very big doggie." Callie agreed. "It took off running for the park's exit." she assured the woman.  
  
"I – I think we'll leave now, in case it comes back," the woman said. "And I think I'm going to report it to the authorities. That's a dangerous animal to have running around loose."  
  
"Good idea," Frank agreed. He and Callie walked the pair to their car, and then started home.  
  
"Callie…about that dog." Frank's voice was thoughtful.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"It wasn't a stray," he told her. "It was wearing a red collar."  
  
Joe entered the dry cleaning establishment belonging to Xhnu Wong, and walked up to the counter. "Hi, Lin Su," he greeted the woman behind the counter. "I'm here to pick up our clothes."  
  
"One minute," she told him, smiling at the handsome young man. She walked into the back, but returned empty-handed. "I'm sorry, Joe, but they aren't ready. Probably not for another three hours."  
  
"But Mom said you or Mr. Wong called and said it was ready!" Joe's brow wrinkled in confusion.  
  
"It wasn't either of us." Lin Su assured him. "Why would we call and tell you it was ready, if it wasn't?" she reasoned.  
  
"You wouldn't," Joe agreed with a small laugh. "Hmm, maybe Mom just wanted me out of the house for a while!" he joked. He had the fantastic notion that Laura might have sent him on a wild goose chase so that she could get at the computer before him…or perhaps, someone had called to lure her out of the house. If that were the case…. "Thanks, Lin Su! We'll get it tomorrow." he said, hurrying out of the shop and getting into the car.  
  
Once in the car, Joe pulled out his cell phone and dialed home. "Hi Mom, it's me." he said, when his mother answered. "The laundry wasn't ready." he informed her.  
  
"That's strange." his mother commented. "I wonder why they said it was?"  
  
"Maybe they called the wrong number." Joe suggested.  
  
"Perhaps," his mother concurred. "I thought it was too fast. Well, come home and get started on your homework."  
  
"On my way," Joe said, and hung up. He put the cell phone back in his pocket, and started the engine. Putting the car in gear, he backed out of the parking lot and re-entered the busy thoroughfare. He shifted into a lower gear as he hit the hill leading down to the intersection at the light. He hated this intersection. He often had to wait through two light changes, due to the heavy amount of traffic.  
  
He saw the light changing, and hit the brakes to bring the car to a stop…but the brakes didn't respond. He pumped them – still no response. He saw an 18-wheeler coming up to the light on his right, which was changing to green, and glimpsed a blue Metro in the lane ahead of him. Joe laid on the horn and fought to keep his eyes open, as the light switched and the big rig started moving forward.  
  
Joe dropped the car into its lowest gear and prayed, as he continued inexorably down the hill, his hand going back to the horn as he sped on. The Metro pulled over as far as it could go, and Joe squeaked by it and barreled through the red light as the rig drove through, its nose barely missing the bumper of Mrs. Hardy's car. Joe continued his frantic drive, wondering why a cop hadn't shown up to hit his lights and siren, and clear the way. Never one around when you need one! Flashed through his mind.  
  
Ahead, Joe saw the road divide, and didn't even debate which route to take. The right led to downtown Bayport, where he probably would get stopped, but possibly at the risk of someone's life! The left would take him out into the country. It should be easier to stop, out there. he reasoned.  
  
As he got farther away from town, Joe decided to pull off the road into a field, hoping the uneven ground would help him halt the car. But not far into the field, one of the wheels hit a rock which had been hidden by the tall weeds. The car jumped, causing the steering wheel to spin out of Joe's hands. Mere seconds before he reached it, Joe saw the barn looming up before him. Instinctively he flung his arms up, in a futile effort to protect himself from the impact! 


	2. Chapter 2

Frank and Callie went up the walk and mounted the steps of the Shaw home. "Want to come in for awhile?" Callie invited. "We can make it legit, and work on our calculus. That's one assignment I could use some help on." she added.  
"Sure."  
  
They went inside, and settled at the kitchen table, with Callie's calc book open in front of them. Perhaps thirty minutes later, when they were immersed in their assignment, Frank's cell phone rang.  
  
"Hello," Frank answered, watching as Callie jotted the answer to a problem down on a sheet of notebook paper.  
  
"Fr…Frank?" Joe's voice was fuzzy.  
  
"Joe? You sound funny – you okay?" Frank demanded, hearing the hesitation and tone of his brother's voice.  
  
"I…don't think so, no…." Joe replied slowly. He had lost consciousness when the car hit the barn, and had only recently come to. He was having a hard time focusing, and if Frank's cell number hadn't been on his speed dial, he probably wouldn't have been able to call. "Mom's car isn't," he went on. "I'm out – at the old – Burgess farmstead…." he continued. "Frank, I think I need…."  
  
His voice trailed off into silence, and Frank heard a soft thump at the other end.  
  
"Joe? Joe!" Frank leaped to his feet. "Callie, call 9-1-1. Joe's been in an accident, and he's out at the old Burgess farm." He took off out the door without looking back. Jumping into the van, Frank tossed his cell phone on the passenger seat without disconnecting the call. Perhaps Joe might come to, and talk to him again.  
  
He drove as fast as he could to the old farm, and as he neared it, on the deserted country road, he could hear sirens wailing somewhere in the distance behind him. He made a sharp turn into the drive leading to the old barn, and accelerated recklessly when he saw his mother's car, unmindful of the bumpy lane. Pulling up next to the barn, he parked the van and leaped out, then ran over to the car and started pulling away the broken planks strewn over the car, to get at the driver's door.  
  
"Joe…" Frank tossed the last plank aside, and found the driver's window rolled down. He leaned inside, and reached to check for a pulse. "Joe, can you hear me? Wake up, little brother!" he said urgently, praying for Joe to open his eyes and respond.  
  
Joe moaned and turned his head slightly, then moaned again. He half-opened his eyes. "Knew…you'd come…" he muttered.  
  
"Don't move," Frank commanded. "Just stay still." He glanced around, as strident sirens filled the air, and an ambulance swept into the barnyard, closely followed by a police cruiser. "The ambulance is here." Frank added, unnecessarily.  
  
Frank was pushed firmly back, as the paramedics moved in to work on Joe, who was carefully removed from the wrecked car, and placed on a stretcher. More coherent now, Joe was beginning to object to the proceedings.  
  
"I'm okay," he protested, as one of the medics attempted to make him lie still.  
  
"Joe, let them do their job." Frank moved forward to sternly issue the order.  
  
"I would, but I'm okay – really!" Joe countered, trying to sit up again.  
  
"You stay put, or I'll call Mom and tell her what happened." Frank threatened, holding up Joe's cell phone, which he had retrieved from the car once Joe had been removed. Of course, he knew he'd be calling Laura soon anyhow, but Joe wouldn't think of that, right now.  
  
Joe shot him a dirty look, but subsided, and allowed himself to be strapped to the stretcher and carried to the ambulance.  
  
The police officer who had accompanied the ambulance came up now. "The brake line was cut." he said grimly. He had looked under the car to see if he could figure out why the accident had occurred.  
  
Frank's face hardened. Someone had deliberately tried to kill Joe. Or Mom! The thought hit Frank like a fist in the solar plexus. Joe didn't normally drive their mother's car. What if the target was Mom? Who would want to kill her? Somebody trying to get back at Dad for something? Frank's face took on a determined cast. He wasn't going to rest until he'd found out who was trying to harm a member of his family, and why...and do what he could to stop it! He gave the officer Joe's name, and his, and told him he would be at the hospital if he was needed, then went to the van.  
  
Grabbing his own cell phone, he hit the End button, then dialed Callie's number. He explained what had happened, and requested Callie to pick up Laura and then meet him at the hospital; he then called his mom and told her Callie was on her way over. Finally, he put the van in gear and peeled out of the barnyard, heading for Bayport's hospital.  
  
Upon arrival, Frank went in and started filling out Joe's paperwork. I've done this so many times, I could practically do it in my sleep! he thought. Just as he finished, Callie and Laura arrived.  
  
"Is he okay? What happened? Why was he out at the Burgess farm?" Mrs. Hardy pummeled her eldest son with questions as she came into the waiting room.  
  
"He was conscious, Mom, and he claimed he was all right." Frank hugged her comfortingly. "But the paramedics wanted to bring him in to make sure. And I don't know why he was out there." he added, not wanting to mention the severed brake line. His father Fenton Hardy, a former member of the NYPD who had resigned to start his own investigative practice, had been out of town and out of touch for almost a week now, and Frank knew his mother was extremely worried. He wasn't about to add to her concerns if he could get away without it. He knew Joe would feel the same way.  
  
The three waited, and time passed. Nearly an hour had gone by, and Frank was practically ready to pound on the receptionist's desk and demand information, when Joe walked out, a nurse by his side.  
  
"He refused a wheelchair," the nurse informed the worried group, resentfully. She evidently didn't like her authority questioned or undermined.  
  
"Joe can be very stubborn," Laura admitted, going to her younger son and hugging him gently. "Is he all right?" she asked the nurse.  
  
"A few cuts and abrasions," the nurse said. "There's no concussion, and he's refused to remain overnight for observation, but we do recommend keeping an eye on him tonight, and waking him every few hours. If he develops any nausea or dizziness, bring him back here immediately."  
  
"I will," Mrs. Hardy promised, hugging Joe again. "Let's go home." she said, taking his arm and leading him outside.  
  
"Thanks, Callie, for all your help." Frank put his arm about Callie as they walked to the parking lot. Joe and Laura, just ahead, turned and thanked her too.  
  
"Any time," Callie said, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.  
  
Frank escorted her to her car, while Joe and Laura climbed in the van; then he joined them, got behind the wheel, and drove home.  
  
It was too late for dinner when they got home, but Joe insisted he was starving, and Laura fixed some sandwiches and heated a can of soup while Joe took a shower and changed. They ate, then the boys worked on their school homework for a while. When bedtime came…  
  
"I'm going to sleep in your room." Frank announced to his brother. Joe eyed him skeptically, but knew he wasn't going to win this round. "Mom, we've got that rollaway bed someplace, don't we?"  
  
She nodded. "It's in the storage closet upstairs."  
  
Frank set up the cot, and set the alarm on his wristwatch. Every three hours, throughout the night, he woke, and roused Joe, to be sure he was all right. Joe declined to be grateful for this service, and grouchily demanded to be allowed to sleep, each time Frank woke him up, although he had to admit it was nice to know his brother cared about him so much.  
  
When Joe awoke for real, at around seven, he found the cot had been removed from his room, and Frank was in his own room, on the telephone with the police. Clatter and aromas from the kitchen announced that Laura was downstairs preparing breakfast.  
  
Joe dragged himself out of bed, feeling each and every bruise and aching muscle from the night before. He stumbled through the bathroom connecting his room and Frank's, and stared inquiringly in his brother's direction. Frank finished his conversation and hung up the phone.  
  
"No leads," he reported. "The police haven't any idea who might have cut your brake line, or made the call that took you to the drycleaners'."  
  
"You know what worries me?" Joe asked, scowling.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Mom got the call to go to the cleaners. On her cell phone. She doesn't just give that number out to everyone." Joe reminded his brother.  
  
"I thought about that myself," Frank admitted. "But who would have something against Mom?" He waited for a response from Joe, but Joe couldn't come up with one. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Sore." Joe grumped. He turned and shuffled back to his own room. "I guess I'd better get ready for school, huh?"  
  
After breakfast, the boys gathered their things and set out for school. Laura assured them that she had already been in contact with their insurance company, and arrangements for her car repairs were underway. She thought she would be getting a loaner car, while hers was fixed; in the meantime, she would just stay home, she announced, to the boys' relief!  
  
Upon their arrival at school, Frank and Joe headed for their lockers, moving through the crush of students milling in the halls. To their shock, each found that his locker had been broken into and left standing open.  
  
"What the…?" Frank reached out and detached something taped to the back wall of the compartment. It was a picture of Joe, with an enormous red "X" covering his features. He quickly made his way down the hall, to where Joe's locker was, and found that he, too, had discovered a picture. Joe's memento was a photo of Frank, with the same red "X".  
  
"This is totally crazy!" Joe expostulated. "One, who could have gotten into our lockers, and two, why leave pictures like this?"  
  
"Well, it's probably pointless, but I think I'll get the fingerprint kit from the van, and dust for prints." Frank said. Accordingly, he retrieved the kit, and the two boys proceeded to dust their lockers for prints. Students nearby watched curiously, and eventually, word of this strange activity made its way to the school office.  
  
"All right, Frank, what are you two up to? Aren't the custodians keeping things up to par, you have to dust your lockers with little brushes now?" Frank, who was concentrating on what he was doing, jumped as he heard the voice, and snapped his head around. Principal Craig Dyson was standing in the hallway, watching him work, a smile creasing his face.  
  
Frank explained, and the smile faded. "This sounds serious; maybe we should notify the police." Principal Dyson suggested.  
  
"I don't think it's quite that serious." Frank demurred. "It's probably just a prank." Finished with his work, he packed up the fingerprint kit and tossed it into the locker. He'd return it to the van later. Right now, he needed to get to class.  
  
"Well, keep me posted," Dyson insisted. "If anything else unusual occurs, let's nip things in the bud, pranks or no pranks."  
  
The school day progressed as it usually did. Joe's classes started with science, then U.S. history, then English. In his history class, he found the usual teacher absent, and a substitute there instead, a lean, red-haired woman about 5'6" with piercing green eyes and a decisive manner. She announced that Mr. Bartlett had gone to New York City to attend a seminar, but would return the next day.  
  
When the final bell rang for the day, students flooded the halls, heading for the parking lot. Joe and Frank joined the throng, making their way slowly through the crowded halls. Although they normally would have been trying to hook up with Callie and Vanessa, and some of their other friends, today they wanted to get home and check on what had been decided about their mother's car – and they optimistically hoped for news from Fenton, too.  
  
Frank fished out his keys, and went to the drivers' door, with Joe trailing behind him a step or two. When he opened the door, however, he halted abruptly.  
  
"What's that?" Gingerly, he reached for the piece of paper lying on the seat.  
  
Joe crowded close to peer over his shoulder. "What's it say?"  
  
"It says…" Frank's voice was grim. "'Tick…tock…tick…tock.' Joe – let's get out of here, fast!"  
  
They backed away from the van, careful not to close the door, and Frank got out his cell phone to call the police, while Joe began warning their fellow-students to keep away. Immediately, a curious crowd gathered, more attracted by Joe's warnings than repelled. Shaking his head at human nature, Joe slipped off his backpack and set it down, and kept trying to steer people away from the van.  
  
The bomb squad arrived with swirling lights and snarling sirens, and firmly cleared the area around the van, but the investigating officers could find no trace of a bomb.  
  
"False alarm," One of the officers tendered the boys a sympathetic grin. "Must have been a prank." He looked around. "Show's over!" he said, more loudly. The watching students groaned, disappointed, and began to dissipate.  
  
"Yeah…there's a lot of that going around." Frank muttered. "Sorry to bring you out for nothing."  
  
"Hey, it wasn't nothing. You had sufficient reason to think something had been planted." The policemen began packing up and preparing to leave.  
  
Joe retrieved his backpack from where he'd set it down, and hefted it over his shoulder. He stopped walking and frowned. It felt heavier than it usually did, and he knew – knew! – that he didn't have his Economics book with him tonight; that was his heaviest textbook. Curious, he slipped it off again, and unzipped it…and stared at the black device with the timer connected, where the seconds were inexorably ticking away – 17…16…15….! 


	3. Chapter 3

HEY! THERE'S A BOMB IN HERE!" Joe bellowed, his blue eyes wide in shocked surprise. Before Joe could move, one of the police officers was there, snatching the backpack from his grasp. He looked into the pack, noticed the timer, and ran to a fair-sized, heavy metal container they had brought with them. He stuffed the backpack, bomb and all, into the container, and slammed down the lid, twisting the lock on the top before hastily backing away. Before he'd moved more than a few feet, a loud noise erupted from the box, and it leapt briefly into the air before settling back down to the ground.  
  
Frank encircled Joe's shoulders tightly with his arm. "Close call," he muttered. "You were that close—" He measured a fraction of an inch with his thumb and forefinger. "—to getting blown to Kingdom Come!"  
  
"It had to have been planted in there after I took the backpack off and set it down." Joe realized. "I know it wasn't there when I left the building; I'd just put books in it!"  
  
"Let's check around," Frank suggested, and accordingly, the two – and the police officers – circulated through the remains of the crowd, asking if anyone had seen anyone near Joe's backpack. They were doomed to disappointment; all eyes had been on the van, not a stray backpack lying in the parking lot. Eventually, the Hardys climbed into their van and went home, still wondering just what was going on at Bayport High School!  
  
Laura was sitting at the desk in the den, absorbed in the computer, when they got home. She glanced up and smiled at them, somewhat abstractedly.  
  
"Hi Mom, anything new up?" Joe bent down to hug her, and to view the screen with interest.  
  
"Yes, there is," she replied, and then grinned at her sons. "You two are famous!" she added.  
  
"Huh? Famous how?" Frank was beginning to be intrigued too. If both Joe and his mom liked this, maybe it had possibilities.  
  
"You made the message board!" she announced, and pulled up the post in question. There it was: In re: Truth or Consequences. WOW! The excitement is so realistic, and the protagonists remind me of that detective duo, Frank and Joe Hardy!  
  
Joe snickered. "We're famous!" he chortled, and offered his palm to Frank for a high-five.  
  
Just then, the phone rang, and Frank reached to pick it up. "It's Vanessa," he said, after the initial 'hello,' and handed the receiver to Joe.  
  
When Joe hung up, he was no longer grinning. "I need to go over to Vanessa's." he announced.  
  
"What's wrong?" Frank asked.  
  
"She said she needed me – something's scared her." Joe replied soberly. "She said it was probably silly, but that she'd explain when I got there. Frank, she sounded awfully jittery. You want to come?" he finished, looking at his brother with a hopeful expresssion.  
  
Frank nodded. "Sure."  
  
When they arrived at the Benders' farmhouse, Vanessa opened the door and came out before they could even knock. She threw her arms about Joe's neck, and clung tightly, becoming calmer just by being near him.  
  
"Babe…babe, what's wrong? What's scared you?" Joe held her close, rocking her a little, trying to soothe her.  
  
"I – I think someone's been in here, while I was at school!" she stammered, loosening her grip and taking a step back. "Come inside." she added, taking Joe's hand in hers. They followed her into the house.  
  
"Why do you think someone's been here? Is something missing?" Frank asked.  
  
"No – nothing's missing, that I've been able to notice. But things aren't where they're supposed to be. It's like someone came in and moved stuff around." Vanessa's voice trembled slightly.  
  
"Maybe your mom moved things?" Joe suggested.  
  
"No – Mom's not here. She's in New York City, at a meeting with some studio head who wants her to expand her show." Vanessa explained. "She won't be back for a couple of days."  
  
"That's great about the show!" Joe exclaimed; he knew Andrea Bender wanted that very much. "But honey, you shouldn't be staying alone!"  
  
"I wasn't worried about it…until now." Vanessa's blue-gray eyes were wide and startled. She looked around at the familiar rooms which had suddenly become so alien…and shivered.  
  
"Let's look around outside," Frank suggested. "Maybe we can see some signs of an intruder. Vanessa, maybe you could try writing down things that look out of place in here, while we do that?" He figured giving Vanessa something concrete to do would help settle her nerves.  
  
She nodded, and went to fetch pen and paper. Frank and Joe went back outside, and began hunting for clues, but their search was inconclusive. The ground was too dry to hold footprints, and nothing else turned up.  
  
"I'm beginning to not feel good about this." Frank leaned against the porch railing, frowning thoughtfully. "If someone's broken into our lockers and put a bomb in your backpack and gone through Vanessa's house….Hmmm, I think I'll call Callie."  
  
When he reached his girlfriend and questioned her about the possibility of her house having been disturbed, Frank was hardly surprised at her reply.  
  
"I thought I was imagining things!" she exclaimed. "It sounds totally silly, but I'd swear things have been moved around in the house, and my mom agrees. But she thought I did it."  
  
Frank explained about Vanessa's situation, and when he did, Callie immediately extended an invitation. "Tell her to pack a few things and get over here to stay!" she commanded. "It will be fine with my folks, don't worry about it. Just get her out of that lonely farmhouse!"  
  
Vanessa was only too glad to comply. She hurriedly packed, left a note for her mother and a message on the answering machine, in case Andrea called, and climbed into the Hardys' van. Frank and Joe drove to the Shaw home, and dropped her off, then headed home, promising to call the girls later that evening.  
  
After dinner, Frank got out his homework assignments, and Joe realized he had a problem.  
  
"My homework got blown up!" he exclaimed in chagrin. "What am I going to do?"  
  
Frank snickered. "Now that's an excuse you don't hear every day!"  
  
"Honey, call your teachers and explain," Laura suggested. "Tomorrow you can get new textbooks, and perhaps you can do some of the assignments without a book."  
  
"Good idea," Joe admitted, and went to the telephone.  
  
Mr. Bartlett, his history teacher, was back from his conference in New York City, and assured Joe that he could catch up the next night, don't worry about it. He made essentially the same remark Frank had, about it being an original excuse, and Joe was chuckling as he ended the call.  
  
Next, Joe dialed the number for his English teacher. When Ms. Westerman answered the telephone, Joe began to explain his dilemma, but before he could finish, he was startled to hear noises in the background. There was a definite sound of breaking glass – and then a cry from Ms. Westerman.  
  
There was a scream for help, and then an ominous click as the receiver went dead in his hand. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Frank!" Joe shouted, slamming the receiver back into its cradle. "Frank!" He hastily checked the address next to the phone number, in the telephone directory, as Frank cannoned down the stairs. "Come on!" Joe snapped, and headed for the front door. Frank followed him without question, but once they were in the van, he demanded an explanation. "Okay, what's going on? Where are we going, and why?"  
  
When Joe explained the disturbing phone call, Frank scowled. "I wonder if it's connected somehow to all the weird stuff happening at school…but nah, that makes no sense; how could it be connected?"  
  
They arrived at the correct address, a small house in one of Bayport's newer subdivisions, and hurried from the van up to the front door. There was no response to either Joe's frantic jabs at the doorbell, or frenzied knocks on the doorframe. He felt in his pocket for his lock pick set, but came up empty-handed; he hadn't had it with him at school. He looked at Frank. "Got your lock picks?"  
  
His brother shook his head. "Nope." He eyed the door. "I don't suppose breaking open the door would be a good option, would it?"  
  
"Probably not." Joe reached for the doorknob, and to his amazement, it turned readily in his hand. "It's unlocked!"  
  
They opened the door and went inside the house. "Ms. Westerman? Hello? Ms. Westerman?" Joe called. "It's Joe Hardy…."  
  
No answer; oppressive silence met their ears. They moved slowly from the entry hall into the living room, and halted, aghast at what they saw. Lying on the floor near the windows was Danielle Westerman, a slender, athletic-looking woman in her early thirties, with long silky black hair. She was dressed as if to go out, in a black velveteen dress and high-heeled shoes, and a string of pearls adorned her neck.  
  
Joe rushed to kneel beside her. "She's alive," he said after a moment, with considerable relief. "Maybe she just fainted. I don't see any obvious injuries."  
  
Frank moved to check out the window, skirting the chair which was standing in his way. A few glass fragments crunched beneath his shoes as he neared it, and he noted papers scattered over the floor. "It looks like this place has been searched," he observed, "but by someone in a tearing hurry." A desk in the corner had drawers pulled out, and the chair behind it was overturned.  
  
"Help me get her on the sofa, and then we had better search the house." Joe suggested, standing up. As Frank came over to help with the teacher, she moaned softly. "Ms. Westerman?"  
  
She opened her eyes and stared up into Joe's anxious face, blinking in confusion. "Joe? Whatever are you doing here?"  
  
"You screamed for help," Joe reminded her. "When we were on the telephone. We came right over." He indicated Frank, and Ms. Westerman turned her head to acknowledge the elder Hardy.  
  
"Oh…yes. So I did." She sat up, aided by Joe, and looked around. "I heard the window break, and someone came in. I was frightened - I guess I fainted."  
  
"Do you think you can stand up?" Joe asked her gently. She nodded, and the boys helped her to her feet, then assisted her to the couch, where she sat down gratefully.  
  
"Thank you, both of you." She smiled at them, then looked inquiringly at Joe as she remembered something. "You called me - why?"  
  
"It was about my English assignment," Joe explained. "My books got destroyed this afternoon, and I wanted to ask you what to do about my homework for tonight."  
  
"Oh!" She laughed softly. "I heard about the bomb in the backpack. Not everyone has reasons like that for not doing an assignment. Well, don't worry about it, Joe. I'll give you an extension for the assignment, and you can get a new book tomorrow."  
  
"Thanks, Ms. Westerman!" Joe grinned with relief.  
  
"Would you like us to check the house for the intruder?" Frank asked, then.  
  
"Oh…no, no, that's all right. I'm sure whoever it was has gone." she assured them. "I'll make sure nothing was taken, and I'll definitely call the police and report the break-in. You were very kind to come over, but I don't see any need for you to put yourselves out further."  
  
"You're probably right," Joe concurred. "Your front door was unlocked; the intruder must have left that way."  
  
Since there didn't seem to be anything else for them to do, Frank and Joe left, but before they got in the van they spent a few minutes looking around outside the house. Frank looked carefully at the broken window. He noticed something odd, and called Joe's attention to it.  
  
"Look here - there's lots of glass out here on the grass…and there wasn't all that much on the carpet inside."  
  
"That's odd," Joe commented, but since they could come up with nothing else concrete, they eventually got in the van and departed.  
  
Driving home, Frank mused silently over the strange things which had been happening in the past two days, basically shutting Joe out, as he often did when thinking hard. Could all these things be connected? Callie's and Vanessa's houses being entered…the pictures in the lockers; the bomb in Joe's backpack…and Mom's car…and now Ms. Westerman's house ransacked…. Her place was a wreck, but Callie's and Vanessa's houses were just…entered, and things moved around, like the intruder wanted them to know someone had been there, but not cause damage. No…they can't be connected.  
  
When they arrived home, Frank and Joe were met with curious questions from their mother, which they tried their best to answer. They told her about Ms. Westerman's broken window, but assured her Joe's English teacher was unharmed, and had intended on contacting the police about the break-in.  
  
Since Joe had been excused from homework, he settled down at the computer in the den to catch up on his online reading, while Frank headed up to his room to finish his interrupted schoolwork. Joe decided to waive the mystery site for the night, and catch up on the science-fiction stories he'd been neglecting, and he spent a pleasurable evening reading the updated stories.  
  
The next morning when the Hardys arrived at school, they found themselves greeted with curious looks and knowing laughter and winks. Frank, especially, was receiving this treatment, and the comments built as they proceeded towards their lockers, now accompanied by some suggestive comments and loud smooching noises from their fellow students.  
  
Bewildered, the boys attempted to ignore it at first, but finally Frank's patience snapped.  
  
"What's going on?" he demanded crossly of a passing freshman, who stared at him wide-eyed, and then stammered out something about the bulletin board in the main hall. Incensed, Frank stamped back down the stairs, followed by Joe, and went to the board. But when he pushed his way up to it, he halted in stupefaction.  
  
"Wow!" Joe breathed in his ear. "Lookit!"  
  
Posted there on the board was a photo Joe had taken a few weeks earlier. It was a shot of sunset on the beach at Barmet Bay, and featured in the foreground were Frank and Callie sharing a tender kiss, arms wrapped about each other in close embrace.  
  
"H-how'd that get there?" Joe stuttered. "I thought you gave that photo to Callie!" 


	5. Chapter 5

Frank snatched the picture from the board and stuffed it into his pocket, glaring about him at the snickering students. When he turned to Joe, he expected to find him laughing as well, but the younger boy's blue eyes were serious, and there was a grim set to his mouth.  
"Whoever broke into Callie's and Vanessa's must go to school here," he muttered. "I wonder what was taken from Van's house; this was what was ripped off from Callie." Although Joe found the actual prank funny, he didn't find the method, i.e., breaking and entering, to be very humorous.  
  
"Yeah, you're right." Frank agreed. He sighed somewhat bitterly. "I hope Callie didn't see it…but she'll hear about it, no question of that." He headed towards the stairs again. "I need to get my Chemistry book for class." he said.  
  
"I've got to go to the library and get some new textbooks." Joe remarked, and headed in the opposite direction. The librarian issued him the new books, only making the comment that he would be billed for the old ones. Joe resented that a bit…he hadn't had anything to do with destroying them, he thought! It didn't seem quite fair that he should have to pay for them! But the only alternative was catching the person who had placed the bomb in his backpack, and he was stymied in that endeavor.  
  
Joe went to his homeroom and settled into his usual seat. As the class bell rang, Mr. Rudy Drew, his teacher, entered the room and sat down at his desk, opening a desk drawer to get out his roll book. The man frowned curiously, for lying on top of the book was a sheet of paper. He picked it up and turned it over, and a scowl crossed his face. Silently, he rose and made his way back to where Joe was sitting, holding the paper in his hand.  
  
"Joe."  
  
Joe looked up into Mr. Drew's forbidding face. About 6' tall, with receding brown hair and sharp brown eyes, his homeroom teacher had an aristocratic-looking face, with its aquiline nose and thin lips. Usually, he looked stern, but approachable…but not now!  
  
"Did you draw this?" Mr. Drew held the paper up for his inspection. Joe looked at it, and felt a pang of guilt. He had drawn it at Vanessa's request; she'd wanted a caricature of Abraham Lincoln. Joe had done his best, but the picture had ended up looking more like his homeroom teacher, with a garish tie and a wig that stood on end!  
  
"Yessir." Joe mumbled, nodding  
  
"Joe, I am extremely displeased and disappointed in you. This was an incredibly impolite action, and you will be punished. Two hours' detention after school today."  
  
"But…!" Joe started to protest. What was Mr. Drew so mad about? It wasn't supposed to be him….  
  
"Quiet!" the teacher snapped. "Another word from you and it's a week's detention, not a day."  
  
Joe snapped his mouth shut and swallowed the hot words. He wasn't about to risk getting a week's detention. But…It's not fair! his mind shouted. The trick played on Frank was funny, but this…this isn't fair!  
  
As Mr. Drew scolded Joe, he switched the paper from his left hand to his right, and Joe glimpsed what his hand had been covering. He cringed. No wonder Drew was so furious! The words RUDE DRUID! were emblazoned in bold capitals, and an arrow pointed to the caricature. Beneath the title was a signature that closely resembled Joe Hardy's own!  
  
Homeroom was silent that day, for none of the students wished to incur Mr. Drew's wrath. Everyone was exceedingly polite and sober, although some bright, malicious glances were occasionally cast Joe's way. When the bell rang, Joe picked up his books and went up to Mr. Drew's desk.  
  
"Didn't know you had it in you, Hardy!" Ian Matthews, the school bully and a royal pain in Joe's side for many years, cracked in a low voice as he passed Joe on the way out of the room. Joe glared, feeling like punching his grinning face, but knew it wasn't worth the trouble it would bring.  
  
"Mr. Drew…"  
  
"Joe, I'm not going to listen to arguments about how you don't deserve detention."  
  
"It's not that, but I didn't do the-"  
  
"And I've heard every excuse in the book; I'm not changing my mind." Mr. Drew was obviously still too miffed to listen. "You'll take your detention as ordered."  
  
"Yessir," Joe muttered. He set his jaw. "But that was not meant to be a picture of you, and that is not my writing!" he stated quietly. He turned and went to the door, then paused for one more comment. "I have more respect for you than that." Joe said, and left before the teacher could reply.  
  
At lunch, Joe was glum and dispirited. He complained to Frank and their friends about his detention, and the mean trick he'd been the victim of. Biff and Chet grinned a little at the situation, but commiserated; Tony and Phil shook their heads ruefully, and Frank, having been the target of the photograph prank, was totally sympathetic. The girls found the whole thing upsetting, to say the least.  
  
"Then something was taken from my home too, as well as Callie's," Vanessa commented. "That picture was on the desk in my room."  
  
"Mine too," Callie concurred. She shuddered a little, and Frank put a reassuring arm about her.  
  
"Now that you know what sorts of things might be missing, would you girls be willing to go through your stuff again?" he asked.  
  
"Sure." Both of them nodded. "I'll do it as soon as I get home." Callie added.  
  
"Sugar, when's your mom going to be home?" Joe inquired of Vanessa. "I don't want you out at the farm alone."  
  
"Sometime this evening," she admitted.  
  
Joe looked across the table at Frank, a question in his eyes. Frank smiled in reassurance.  
  
"I'll go with her, Joe," he stated quietly. "I'll help her look, and then drop her off at Callie's and swing back to pick you up after detention."  
  
Joe smiled gratefully at his brother, and turned his attention to his lunch.  
  
After school, Joe took his backpack and made his way to the detention room, resigned to his fate. At least I can get my homework done early, he tried to comfort himself. He stepped up to the desk and told the supervising teacher his name, and which instructor had issued the punishment. To his surprise, she said that Mr. Drew had withdrawn the detention, apparently having changed his mind. Joe stared at her in shock, his blue eyes widening, and a relieved grin spreading across his face.  
  
"Great!" he exclaimed, and hurried out the classroom door. When he reached the hallway, however, he skidded to a stop, suddenly realizing that Frank had already departed for Vanessa's, and therefore Joe was without a way home. Great! he said silently again, this time with considerable irony.  
  
Well, might as well fill up the time doing a little sleuthing…. Joe headed down the hall for his homeroom. Perhaps Mr. Drew was still there.  
  
Indeed, the teacher was in his room, apparently grading papers. Joe tapped lightly on the doorframe, and entered.  
  
"Hello, Joe." The man's brown eyes rested on him, not unkindly. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I wanted to thank you for lifting the detention, first," Joe began. "I really appreciate that. And then…I wondered…could I ask you some questions? I'm trying to find out about how that drawing got in your desk."  
  
"Ask away." Mr. Drew sat back, waiting.  
  
"Do you always keep your roll book in that drawer?" Joe pointed at the drawer.  
  
"Yes, except during grading time." Mr. Drew replied.  
  
"Is the drawer kept locked?"  
  
"No, not usually."  
  
"How about the classroom? Is it locked when you get here in the mornings? Was it this morning?"  
  
"Yes, Joe, it's always locked." Mr. Drew smiled patiently. "This morning as well as every other morning."  
  
Joe went over to the door and inspected the catch and lock minutely. He could see no signs of tampering. He turned back to his teacher.  
  
"Mr. Drew, who has keys to this room?"  
  
"Let's see…I do, and the custodians, and Mr. Dylan…and there's a full set of room keys kept in the office, I believe."  
  
"So a teacher would have an easier time getting into a room, than say, a student?" Joe queried.  
  
"Yes, that's right - but Joe, are you trying to say that a teacher pulled this prank on you?" Drew demanded in disbelief. "That's absurd!"  
  
"But it's a possibility!" Joe insisted. "Well, thanks for being so helpful, Mr. Drew…and thanks again for lifting the detention."  
  
"I hope you find the culprit, Joe." Mr. Drew said, as the younger Hardy left the classroom.  
  
Joe headed for the school office. He needed more information, and he thought he knew how he could get it. When he went in, he was greeted by the smiling school secretary, Dorothy Gamble. Mrs. Gamble had always been one of Joe's favorite people at Bayport High. Tall, with angular features somewhat like his Aunt Gertrude's, she had black hair with ever-increasing gray streaks, which she wore in coronet braids around her head, and friendly blue eyes.  
  
"Mrs. Gamble, I was wondering if I could get a list from you…" Joe commenced his request. "I'd like a list of all the new teachers at Bayport this year." And I am especially interested in teachers that either Frank or I have, he added silently.  
  
"All right, Joe." The secretary looked at a faculty list, and began writing names on a sheet of paper. "Why do you want a list like this?"  
  
"Um - private project." Joe took the list from her. "Thanks," he said, turning about…and beholding a group of teachers standing behind him - including his teachers, and Frank's, as well! 


	6. Chapter 6

Joe froze, feeling his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. Why were all these teachers standing there? "Go ahead, the conference room is ready." Mrs. Gamble was saying, behind him. "I know Mr. Dyson wants to get the faculty meeting over with quickly."  
  
Faculty meeting? Whew! Joe mentally heaved a sigh of relief, and began to make his escape. A few of the instructors looked at him a little curiously but he politely excused himself as he stepped between Mr. Drew and Mr. Bartlett, and headed for the front doors. Once outside, he plopped down on the front steps to wait for Frank, work on his homework, and study the list Mrs. Gamble had given him.  
  
Forty minutes later, teachers began exiting the building. Joe was still sitting there, his homework nearly complete, and he glanced up and smiled, or gave polite greetings to them as they passed.  
  
Ms. Westerman stopped beside him to chat a moment.  
  
"Joe, thank you again for what you and your brother did for me last night. I appreciate it very much." Ms. Westerman smiled warmly down at the younger Hardy boy.  
  
"We were glad to help." Joe said sincerely. "Did you talk to the police?"  
  
"Yes, and they sent a team to check things over, but they didn't find anything. They believe he was wearing gloves; there weren't any fingerprints on anything, other than mine."  
  
Abruptly, Joe smacked the side of his head. "I don't know where my mind was last night - did you get a look at the guy?"  
  
"Yes, I did." she replied. "He was about your height, I think - very muscular build, and he had tightly curled brown hair and a strong jawline. Mid-twenties in age, I believe. That's all I remember, though."  
  
"That's more than a lot of people would remember." Joe commented, a slight frown creasing his forehead. She had seen all that and hadn't noticed if he was wearing gloves or not?. "Are you heading home now?"  
  
"Yes, but…" Ms. Westerman paused, and her pale skin flushed a delicate pink shade. "I must admit, I'm a little nervous about walking into the house alone."  
  
Joe stood up. "Would you like me to go with you? I can give Frank a call, and have him pick me up there, instead of here."  
  
"Why - yes, Joe, I would appreciate that very much!" she exclaimed. "You're very kind to offer."  
  
"No problem." Joe flipped open his cell phone and punched the digit that dialed Frank's number.  
  
Frank ended the call and grinned at Callie. "Joe got excused from detention, and he is escorting Ms. Westerman home." he announced. "So I can pick him up there, instead of going back to the school."  
  
"Oh, I'm glad he didn't have to do the detention!" Callie said approvingly. "That was so unfair!" She glanced around. "I think that's it. I don't see anything else missing."  
  
"Okay." Frank consulted the piece of paper he'd been jotting notes on. "So, taken from you was the picture of us at the beach, the teddy bear I won for you at the school carnival, and…" he stopped, blushing a little. "…and that mushy poem."  
  
"It was a nice poem!" Callie defended, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I think you write lovely poetry, Frank!"  
  
He blushed redder, and riveted his attention on the list. "And from Vanessa's was the picture of Mr. Drew - pardon, I mean the picture of Abraham Lincoln! - a photo of all of us that Andrea took at the St. Patrick's Day party, and that gold locket that Joe had inscribed for Vanessa for Valentines' Day."  
  
"Vanessa was broken up about losing that locket." Callie said soberly. "I'm glad Andrea got home while we were there, so that Van could stay home with her, rather than coming back here. I mean - I think she felt better, being with her mom."  
  
"I agree." Frank concurred. "Well, I'd better go fetch Joe from the lair of Ms. Westerman." he quipped, and pulled Callie in for a quick farewell kiss. "I'll call you later, probably."  
  
"If you aren't too wrapped in this mystery," she corrected him with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew him so well! "Bye!" She returned the kiss, and watched him depart, smiling.  
  
Frank drove to Ms. Westerman's house, noting as he drove up that plastic had been taped over the broken front window. Joe had evidently been watching for him, for he emerged almost immediately from the house as Frank pulled up in front. He climbed into the van, and Frank started for home without delay.  
  
As he drove, Frank noticed Joe brushing futilely at his black tee-shirt, which on closer inspection, appeared to be covered with hair. "Vanessa wouldn't be happy to see that." he commented teasingly. "She doesn't take kindly to being two-timed."  
  
"Yeah, she was all over me!" Joe cracked, then grinned disarmingly. "Actually, it was 'he was all over me'." he continued, and waited while Frank choked a bit over that comment. "Ms. Westerman has a dog!" he explained, at last, putting Frank out of his misery. "A very exuberant, friendly dog…that sheds!"  
  
When they arrived home, the boys headed for the kitchen, intending on finding something to eat. Laura greeted them, and laughingly watched their attack on the cookie jar.  
  
"Go easy on the cookies; I don't want you spoiling your dinners!" she warned.  
  
"Since when have we not eaten dinner because of cookies beforehand?" Joe inquired, stacking half-a-dozen on a napkin, while Frank poured them each glasses of milk.  
  
"Well…since you were twelve, probably." his mother admitted. "Still, issuing warnings like that is part of my job description. And so is this: do you have homework, and if so, shouldn't you go do it?"  
  
"Yes, and yes." Frank replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and scooping up his cookies. "I'm going up to my room right now, Mom."  
  
"I finished mine at school." Joe said smugly. "I'm going to go check out ESPNews."  
  
Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head, but refrained from comment, and both boys left the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang, and after Laura answered it, she popped her head into the family room where Joe was contentedly watching TV, the remains of his afternoon snack lying on the coffee table. "That was Mr. Wong at the drycleaners'." Mrs. Hardy said. "I forgot to pick up our clothes today. Could you or Frank go and get it, please?"  
  
"You couldn't have picked it up anyway, Mom; your car's in the shop." Joe reminded her. "Hey, want to run a laundry errand?" he queried Frank, who was just coming down the stairs, curious as to the phone call. Every time it rang, all three Hardys jumped, hoping it was Fenton.  
  
"Yeah, sure." Frank agreed.  
  
"Want some company?" Joe offered casually. Inside he was anything but casual. What if there's another 'accident'? I don't want Frank to go alone - but I don't want to say anything about it, because he'll for sure give me a hard time for worrying about him!  
  
"Nah, I think I can manage to pick up laundry by myself." his elder brother said. "You just take it easy for awhile. You're supposed to be recovering from a car accident, remember?"  
  
Frank departed and Joe, deciding there really wasn't anything he could do to prevent an incident, went into the den to catch up on the latest installments of online fanfiction. He accessed the mystery story site, and clicked on Truth and Consequences curiously. Might as well see what the message board posts meant about the characters being like us! He pulled up the first chapter.  
  
The beginning was too much romantic mush and not enough action to suit Joe. The main character, Fletcher, did seem to resemble Frank a bit, physically, but his girlfriend Carol had dark hair, and was shorter than Callie. Joe did like the intriguing scene at the park, where Fletcher chased away a Rottweiler dog which was threatening some small children, but all too soon, it reverted to more romantic interchanges. Must be a girl writing this! Joe thought with some disdain.  
  
But he kept on reading. The message board had given the story good reviews, and he wanted to get to the part with the protagonist who was supposed to be like him!  
  
AHA! There he was! Jeremy, the jock! Blond, blue eyes, good looking - impulsive and acts without thinking. Ah, whoever thinks this guy is me, is going on looks alone! Joe thought. He read the chapter critically, and when Jeremy was challenged to a race, and ended up crashing through a construction barrier and hitting a truck, Joe hooted with laughter. What a dope! He logged off, just as Laura called to him.  
  
"Joe, honey, could you empty wastebaskets and take out the trash?" she requested. "Tomorrow's garbage pickup day."  
  
"Sure Mom." Joe got a plastic garbage bag, and circulated through the house, emptying wastebaskets in the various rooms. When he completed the circuit, he took the bag out to the trash container - and then halted in surprise, for large letters were chalked on their driveway, and the message wasn't a friendly greeting!  
  
'I have my way in everything,  
  
With your consent, and no responsibilities.'  
  
Joe scowled, and went inside the house. He didn't tell Laura immediately, instead, he went directly to the telephone and called the Bayport police station. He reported the vandalism, and was reassured that a team would be there shortly, to take pictures and get a statement. Only then, did Joe go to the kitchen and tell his mother what he'd discovered.  
  
The police had come and gone, and Joe was outside, copying down the chalked words in a notebook, when Frank pulled up to the house and got out of the van, carrying the plastic-bagged laundry.  
  
"What in the heck is this?" Frank stared at the driveway in perplexity.  
  
"Another prank." Joe informed him, and pocketed his notebook.  
  
Frank read the two lines, frowning. "I've heard that somewhere before," he muttered, loud enough for Joe to hear him.  
  
"What does it mean, then?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Sounds like our villain is not only bragging about his misdeeds, he's also telling us he's able to get away with them because we let him." Frank replied.  
  
"Still makes no sense to me," Joe growled. "How exactly are we letting this person get away with what he's doing? It says with our consent - I know I never gave anyone permission to do any of these sick pranks!" He shook his head in dismissal, and caught Frank's eye. "I'm going to scrub off the driveway now, and any help would be appreciated." he hinted.  
  
"I'll just take this in, and then I'll help." Frank promised, and headed for the house.  
  
Working with the hose and a brush, Frank and Joe got the offending message removed from the asphalt in short order. As they were finishing up, Frank raised a question.  
  
"Did you think to ask the cops if there was anything new about the brake line thing?"  
  
Joe stared at him in chagrin. "No! I forgot! Darn it…"  
  
"Well, we can check when we go inside." Frank comforted him. "The guys here might not have known anyway." He began coiling up the hose. "That looks pretty clean; let's call it good."  
  
Frank made the call, but the answers were a disappointment. No, nothing new had been found out about the car or the phone call which had summoned Mrs. Hardy to the drycleaners'. When he hung up, Joe was waiting with more news.  
  
"Ms. Westerman said that the police couldn't find any leads to her intruder, either." he reported. "They think the guy was wearing gloves. She did get a look at him, though." he continued, and described the man as Danielle Westerman had.  
  
Frank, in turn, told Joe what the girls had discovered missing from their homes. As expected, Joe was upset about the locket taken from Vanessa, and wondered if it might be expected to turn up somewhere.  
  
They ate dinner, and Mrs. Hardy had to admit that the cookies didn't seem to have affected the boys' appetites. Afterwards, Frank finished his homework, and Joe read a magazine; they watched the late news together, and went to bed.  
  
The next morning the Hardys went to school, pleased to note that there were no offending pictures on the bulletin board, and no one seemed to be snickering at them. Callie met them at the main entrance, and Frank immediately offered to walk her to her first class. They departed, his hand protectively on her elbow as he guided her through the crowded hallway.  
  
Somewhat to Joe's surprise, Vanessa hadn't arrived yet. Hoping she hadn't had car trouble, Joe went to his locker to get a book for his first class.  
  
He stood in front of the metal compartment, and spun the combination lock, his fingers automatically finding the familiar numbers of the combination sequence. As Joe pulled the locker door open, he heard a loud click, and simultaneously there came the crashing noise of an explosion!  
  
Joe was propelled backwards across the hall, and slammed hard into the lockers there. Locker doors popped off and went flying, bits of metal shooting out like shrapnel; and books, papers, backpacks and articles of clothing flew through the air, hitting peoples' bodies with stunning force! 


	7. Chapter 7

As the noise of the explosion abated, it was immediately replaced by shouts and screams and the moans of injured students who had been hit by objects or thrown into the walls or onto the floors. Pandemonium reigned in the upstairs hall of Bayport High.  
At the other end of the building, Frank and Callie had been standing by Callie's classroom door, talking. When the violent KER-BLAM! resounded through the school, both of them took off running in the direction of the noise; Frank threading his way through knots of panicked students and faculty and essentially 'breaking trail' for Callie to follow. They rounded the corner into Junior Hall, and Frank skidded to a stop, appalled by the scene. Callie clutched his arm in horror.  
  
Locker doors and metal fragments, books and papers, backpacks, sweatshirts and coats…the hallway floor was littered with them. Several students were leaning against the walls, rubbing bruised areas or brushing themselves off…but four bodies lay sprawled on the floor, and one of those bodies was Joe Hardy's!  
  
Frank ran down the corridor toward the melee, followed by Callie. Just as he reached Joe, Vanessa appeared, running from the other direction. Faculty members were popping out of classrooms and valiantly attempting to clear the hall of frightened students, and Principal Dyson's authoritative voice could be heard in the distance, but Frank, Callie and Vanessa weren't about to be herded away from Joe. They swept down on him, and Frank dropped to his knees beside him.  
  
"Joe? " Oh jeez, look at the blood! "Joe, stay still…" This isn't fair – first the car accident, and now this…nobody should have to go through all this, Joe least of all….  
  
Joe was struggling to sit up. "Wh-what…happened? Did my – did my locker just blow up?" He raised a shaky hand to gingerly touch his eye, which was already beginning to swell, and encountered the blood pouring down his forehead. "I'm…ugh, I'm…bleeding?"  
  
"Stay still," Frank repeated, gently pushing him flat again. "Yes, you're bleeding. Do you hurt anywhere else?"  
  
"My shoulder hurts…and my head aches like hell…." Joe murmured, closing his eyes. Vanessa sank to the floor behind him, and eased his head into her lap, heedless of the blood.  
  
"You're having a bad week," Frank observed. He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, and gently held it to the gash on Joe's forehead. "First the car accident, and now this. Have you checked your horoscope lately?"  
  
"Very…funny." Joe's eyes were squeezed shut in pain. "What about…other kids?"  
  
Frank looked around. Things were settling down a little. Principal Dyson was there, and the hall was being cleared of students. Dyson was speaking to a nearby boy:  
  
"Justin, go down to the office and ask Mrs. Gamble to call for an ambulance, and the police." He glanced at the students still lying on the floor, and added: "And tell her that we need to contact the parents of Joe Hardy, Melissa Montgomery, Andrew Baughman, and Lisa Evans. Got it?" Mr. Dyson's brown eyes bored into his listener, making sure the message was clear, and he rubbed a hand across his reddish-brown moustache abstractedly.  
  
"Yes sir, I've got it." Justin Lyman sped away, heading towards the stairs.  
  
"There are some other injuries, Joe, but don't worry about that right now." Frank replied to Joe's question. "You just relax and wait for the EMT's to get here."  
  
"Paramedics again?" Joe grimaced. "I've already seen too many lately. I'm tired of this…." His voice trailed off into a pained sigh. "Make 'em go away…."  
  
"Frank, how is he?" Callie asked fearfully, her eyes fixed on Joe's white face. "Do you think he's badly hurt?"  
  
"I'm right here!" Joe interrupted. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm dying!"  
  
"He'll be okay," Frank reassured Callie. "All the damage looks like it's to that hard head of his. This is starting to be dangerous – and not just for us!" He squeezed Joe's arm reassuringly, and got to his feet. "You two stay with him and make sure he stays quiet, huh? I want to check out the locker."  
  
Frank examined Joe's locker – or what there was left of it – carefully. His possessions had been blown to smithereens, and Frank wondered what the librarian would say when Joe requested yet another set of replacement textbooks. He found powder residue on the locker floor, and touched a finger gingerly to it, then sniffed. Saltpeter….potassium nitrate, if he wanted to get technical and make his chem teacher happy…in other words, gunpowder!  
  
Sirens sounded outside, and a few minutes later a team of EMT's and two police officers arrived. The medics set to work on the injured students, and the police began questioning the onlookers, one after the other.  
  
Joe's head was temporarily bandaged, and he was gently loaded onto a stretcher. Frank watched as the other students were attended to; only two others, it seemed, were hurt badly enough to warrant a trip to the hospital; Andrew Baughman and Lisa Evans. Melissa Montgomery was examined and advised to go home for the remainder of the day to rest.  
  
"He's my brother – can I go with him?" Frank demanded, as the paramedics prepared to move Joe down the hall.  
  
"No, sorry – no room; we only brought one rig." One of the attendants replied. "You can follow us to the hospital, if you like, though."  
  
"Frank, I'd prefer you stayed at school." Mr. Dyson was standing nearby. "Your mother has been notified, and she'll meet the ambulance at the hospital. I am sure she'd prefer you remained here for the time being."  
  
You are, huh? I'm not sure about that! Besides, how's she supposed to get to the hospital without a car? Frank's rebellious thoughts churned. He knew the answer: Laura would either ask a neighbor for a ride, or take a taxi.  
  
Police questioning and investigation of the explosion filled the rest of the day, at Bayport High, although the teachers attempted to go on with classes as usual, and unusually subdued and somber students tried to comply. After the police had gone over Joe's locker with a fine-tooth comb, and sifted through the debris, they departed, allowing the school custodians to begin cleaning up the mess.  
  
Frank, Callie and Vanessa, Biff and Tony, Chet and Phil – they all waited tensely for word from the hospital regarding Joe's condition.  
  
Surely Joe had been essentially unhurt! Mom would have contacted the school if things didn't look good…wouldn't she? Unable to concentrate, Frank fretted through his classes; and when the last class time arrived, and study hall beckoned, he gathered his books from his locker, taped a note to Callie's locker, walked out the side door of the school, and went to the van without a qualm.  
  
Upon arrival at the hospital, Frank was directed to the third floor, and went there with haste. He asked at the nurse's station for Joe's room number, and when he was told it was #368, hurried down the hall.  
  
The door was closed, but Frank opened it gently, and peered around the edge. "Mom?"  
  
"Hi honey!" His mother glanced up from the magazine she was leafing through, and smiled. "Come in – but shhh, Joe's asleep right now."  
  
"How is he?" Frank tiptoed to his mother's side and leaned to kiss her, but his attention was on his brother's still, pale face and bandaged head.  
  
"He has a concussion," Laura told him. "and it took six stitches to close that gash on his forehead. And his shoulder's pretty badly bruised, from hitting the wall."  
  
"And a black eye," Frank added, noting the swollen, discolored condition of Joe's right eye.  
  
"That, too." His mother nodded. "But the doctor said he can go home tomorrow morning, assuming nothing occurs during the night with the head injury."  
  
"How are the other kids that were hurt, do you know? They didn't tell us anything, at school."  
  
"Lisa Evans had a broken arm, and a few stitches for a cut over her eye." Laura told him. "And Andrew Baughman needed eighteen stitches in his shoulder – he was cut by a locker door that blew off and slammed into him. They were both treated and released."  
  
"Ouch!" Frank winced sympathetically. "Mom," he questioned, suddenly remembering. "How'd you get here, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, Stan Axemeyer brought me. He was outside mowing his lawn when Mrs. Gamble called and said Joe had been hurt. I went out and asked him for a lift over here, and he was very nice and obliging. He stayed around long enough to find out that Joe was basically all right, and that I'd be staying here until you came…and then he went home to finish his lawn!"  
  
Frank nodded. Stan Axemeyer had moved next door to them about three years ago. In his 40's and divorced, Stan was tall and lean, with dark-blond hair and blue eyes, and was a C.P.A., with a passion for golf and fishing.  
  
Laura looked over at her sleeping younger son and sighed. "I wish your father would come home."  
  
Me too, Mom…me too. Frank settled into a chair and pulled a book out of his backpack, intending to study…but his eyes kept drifting from the pages towards Joe's slumbering form.  
  
All these attacks…they've all been aimed at Joe. Assuming that whoever cut the brake lines on Mom's car knew Joe was driving it…. Does this person have something specific against Joe, or just know him better than me? Has to be someone we both know – otherwise, why the pranks against me at school? Somberly, Frank returned his gaze to his book and tried to concentrate.  
  
After a time, Laura rose from her chair. "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee, and maybe take a little walk. Joe certainly doesn't need us both sitting here and watching him sleep," she whispered, smiling. "He was awake earlier, but his head was aching so much, he was kind of cranky company."  
  
"Okay, Mom." Frank murmured, raising his eyes from the lines of print. "Have a nice walk…and keep your eyes open! We're still not positive that Joe was the target, with that cut brake line." He tilted his head back against the chair and surveyed Joe, as his mother quietly left the room.  
  
Perhaps five minutes later, Joe suddenly sighed deeply, shifted in the bed, and opened his eyes. Frank set his book down and leaned forward attentively.  
  
"Joe?"  
  
Joe turned his head, wincing a little. "Hey…didn't know you were here." He blinked, looking around the room. "Rats…I'm still here. I was hoping I'd dreamed the whole thing."  
  
"Afraid not, baby brother. It really happened. How are you feeling now?"  
  
Joe wrinkled his nose expressively. "Headachy and my shoulder is really sore, but not too bad, considering."  
  
Before Frank could continue the conversation, there came a soft tap on the door, and then it opened to reveal blond hair and blue-gray eyes.  
  
"Can Joe have visitors?" Vanessa inquired, smiling.  
  
"I sure can!" Joe replied for himself. "Get in here, now!"  
  
Vanessa entered, followed closely by Chet, Biff, and Phil. She went to Joe's side and leaned over the bed, kissing him warmly.  
  
"You just love scaring me to death, don't you?" she gently scolded. "We ran into your mom downstairs, and she told us you were being kept overnight." A caressing hand smoothed his hair back from the bandage, then delicately touched his swollen eye. "You are going to look awful tomorrow!"  
  
"You're such a comfort," Joe retorted wryly. "Hey, where's the rest of everybody? Where're Callie and Tony?"  
  
"Tony had to work, and Callie was writing a report she said she absolutely had to finish. She sent her regards." Phil announced, perching on the end of Joe's bed, as Chet plopped himself into the other chair. Biff leaned against the wall, trying without much success to make himself smaller, as the room was beginning to feel downright crowded.  
  
The teens chatted for a while, telling Joe what all had transpired at school after he had been taken to the hospital. Joe was brought an early dinner, which he merely stirred around on the plate, not having much appetite. Laura returned. Chet made a quick run for hamburgers for everyone, and later Frank excused himself to call Callie and give her an update on Joe's condition. When he returned to Joe's room, he heard a soft chime echoing through the halls, followed by a mellow voice announcing that visiting hours were over, and requesting that all visitors leave.  
  
"Goodnight, Joe." "Hey pal, sleep well." "See you tomorrow, maybe…." Various farewells were spoken, and the boys trooped out. Vanessa bent to kiss her boyfriend goodnight, then exited, leaving Laura and Frank.  
  
"Goodnight, sweetie." Laura hugged Joe gently, and dropped a kiss near his hairline. "I'll be here in the morning to pick you up – probably about ten o'clock."  
  
"Take it easy, kiddo." Frank laid a careful hand on Joe's bruised shoulder. "See you tomorrow after school."  
  
In the morning, Frank rode to school with Callie, leaving the van for his mother. When she picked him up, Callie was anxious for news of Joe, and apologetic for not coming to visit him the previous evening, but Frank assured her that Joe had had plenty of visitors, and understood completely that she had had other priorities.  
  
"Don't worry about it, beautiful – he was cool with it. You can come over after school and hover over him, if it'll make you feel better."  
  
Picked up by Laura, Joe found himself weary after nothing more strenuous than the ride home. He settled down on the family room couch for a nap while his mother busied herself elsewhere in the house. As he drifted off to sleep again, Joe thought: When I wake up…I want to check out the new chapters in those stories on the Internet….  
  
At school, Frank had hurried to inspect Joe's locker once again, just in case either he or the police had overlooked something vital the previous day. Only bits and pieces of it remained, however; and the custodian was cleaning the area once more. It had been tidied up the day before, but curious students had evidently made a mess again.  
  
"Mr. Norquist, could I ask you a couple of questions?" Frank leaned against the lockers nearby and addressed the janitor.  
  
"Sure," Mr. Norquist nodded. "But first, how is Joe?"  
  
"Black and blue, and he took a pretty good knock on the head, but he'll be okay after a couple days' rest." Frank replied, then launched into his questions. "Has anybody been around here that shouldn't have been? Anyone that looked out of place?"  
  
"Not that I've seen," the man replied. "Lots of kids, but what else could you expect; this is a high school, after all."  
  
"Anyone been around at a time they shouldn't have been?" Frank persisted.  
  
"No…but I did see a car here night before last, awfully late," Norquist admitted. "A green Chevy Corsica."  
  
"Any idea who it belongs to?" Frank asked hopefully.  
  
"Sorry, no." Mr. Norquist shook his head.  
  
"Well, thanks, Mr. Norquist! That helps." Frank brightened, and decided to check out the student and faculty parking lots…just in case.  
  
On his way, however, he ran into Biff and Chet. When Frank told them what he had learned from Mr. Norquist, Biff raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Green Chevy Corsica? That's Mr. Bartlett's car!"  
  
"Do you really think Mr. Bartlett's involved in this?" Chet asked incredulously.  
  
"Maybe," Frank conceded. "I'm not ruling anything out right now."  
  
The three went out to the faculty parking lot, but there was no sign of Mr. Bartlett's car.  
  
"Maybe he felt guilty, and stayed home – decided he'd gone too far." Biff suggested, dubiously. They all liked Mr. Bartlett, and didn't want to think of him as a suspect in this nasty business.  
  
"I'm going to drop by his house after school." Frank decided. "I want to talk to him."  
  
Biff and Chet exchanged glances, knowing Frank would suspect everyone until he found the person responsible. They had been friends with the Hardys long enough to know that Frank had the tenacity of a bulldog. And just in case he was right, neither Biff nor Chet wanted him to go alone. Both volunteered to accompany him.  
  
After school, the boys piled into Biff's beat-up Blazer and headed for Mr. Bartlett's home, Frank having requested the address information from friendly Mrs. Gamble in the office earlier in the day. But when they arrived at his house, and knocked on the door, there was no answer.  
  
"No one home…wonder if he skipped town?" Chet hazarded a guess.  
  
"Let's look around a little." Frank suggested. He went towards the garage, which had a side window, cupped his hands about his eyes, and peered in through the dust and cobwebs.  
  
To his shock and horror, he saw inside the garage a green Corsica – and in the front seat sat Mr. Bartlett…eyes wide open and head lolling to one side! 


	8. Chapter 8

Frank eased himself away from the window, his heart thumping, and rejoined Biff and Chet, reaching to unclip his cell phone from his belt. Without speaking to his friends, he flipped the phone open and punched in 9-1-1 with fingers that trembled. When he finished his conversation with the dispatcher, he shut the phone and leaned against Biff's Blazer. "Why?" he whispered.  
Biff and Chet had gone to peer in the garage window too, and had returned as pale and shaken as the elder Hardy boy. All three of them were horrified at this sudden turn of events. Was it murder? Suicide? Until an official investigation was made, they wouldn't know.  
  
When the police arrived, Frank hovered close, trying to find out the details of what had happened. He was afraid that the investigating officers would shoo him away from the scene, but luckily both were acquainted with the Hardys, and were willing to go easy on the regulations. Biff and Chet waited in the Blazer, trying to stay out of the way.  
  
"Officer Hamilton, what killed him?" Frank asked, as the slight, dark-haired young officer finished radioing for an ambulance to transport Bartlett's body.  
  
"Looks like suicide, Frank," Hamilton replied. "Carbon monoxide poisoning. The car's out of gas…motor must have run in there until the tank was empty, and then died. There's a note on the seat of the car. We'll test it for fingerprints, of course, but basically," he added, looking down at the note, which was encased in a plastic bag, "it's a confession to planting a bomb in Joe's backpack, cutting the brake line of his car, and putting the bomb in his locker…Hey, who did he do all this to? Who's Joe?"  
  
"Our Joe," Frank informed him grimly. "My brother, Joe."  
  
"Oh, for the luvva.…Well, that makes the rest of the note make more sense. It goes on that he only wanted to divert Fenton Hardy's attention from the case he was working on, not hurt the students at school."  
  
Frank stared at the police officer, unbelieving. How in the world could Mr. Bartlett have anything to do with his father's cases? It made no sense whatsoever.  
  
I'll have to call Con Riley and see if he'll get me the autopsy results, Frank thought. And anything else pertinent to the case…. Aloud, he thanked Officer Hamilton, and slowly walked back to the Blazer.  
  
"Come on, let's get outta here," Biff urged him. "Chet's been bugging me to leave for half an hour now."  
  
"This creeps me out," Chet complained. "Frank may enjoy hanging around crime scenes, but not me."  
  
"I don't enjoy it," Frank retorted. "But I wanted to find out what happened." He climbed into the back seat of the Blazer morosely. "Okay, I'm ready to leave, Biff."  
  
Biff dropped Frank off first, and he and Chet drove away. Frank went into the house, wondering how Joe was feeling by this time. He'd had the whole day to rest; surely he must be recovering!  
  
Frank found Joe lying on the couch, watching television. When he told him of Mr. Bartlett's death, Joe was extremely upset; he had liked the history teacher and enjoyed his class. He found it difficult to believe that Bartlett could have been behind all the mysterious and disturbing events which had occurred in the past few days.  
  
"But Frank, I found something out while I was here today." the younger boy added. "I was on the computer, reading the stories on that mystery fanfiction site, and…well, just come here and see something!" Joe got to his feet and led the way into the den, where he sat down at the desk and seized the mouse. A few clicks later, he had accessed the site.  
  
"Look at this story, Truth and Consequences," Joe urged. "The chapters have been matching what's been going on - and they're posted before the things happen!" He pulled up the story in question, and then switched to the message board. "See? The messages talk about the chapter, and the things that happened in it - look, Frank, see?"  
  
In his enthusiasm, Joe was touching the monitor, and getting fingerprints all over the screen. This was a pet peeve of Frank's, and the older boy automatically reached out and pulled Joe's hand back a bit, then felt in his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped the monitor.  
  
Joe rolled his eyes, but waited, albeit impatiently, until Frank had finished before continuing. "It's basically the same things that happened! And the very last chapter ends with the archeology professor committing suicide and leaving a note!" Joe's face was flushed with excitement.  
  
"Take it easy; calm down." Frank admonished. "You're getting way too worked up; you're supposed to stay quiet, remember? You know perfectly well that if we handed the police a theory like that, they'd say it was coincidence, and a far-fetched one, at that."  
  
"You said Mr. Bartlett left a note?" Joe asked, sitting back in the chair and trying to obey Frank's remonstrations.  
  
"Yes, he did." Frank nodded. "It said he was sorry for all those things that happened - the cut brake line, the bomb in the backpack, the locker bomb-"  
  
"Then it couldn't have been him!" Joe cried, tension building in his voice once more. "He wasn't even at school that day - the one when the bomb was in my backpack - he was at a conference in New York City. We had a substitute teacher!"  
  
"Okay, okay….You have a point." Frank conceded.  
  
Joe reached for the telephone. "I'm going to call Con down at the police station, and see if he can check this out."  
  
When Joe spoke to Con Riley, however, the best the officer could do was assure Joe he'd look into it, and with that, Joe was forced to be content.  
  
Frank, meanwhile, had gone into action on the computer. He had e-mailed the webmaster of the site, and requested the e-mail address of the author of Truth and Consequences. Afterwards, he sat and skimmed through the chapters of the story, mentally tabulating the coincidences…which no longer seemed quite so far-fetched!  
  
But when Joe finished his call to Con, Frank logged off and shut down the computer. "You feel up to going out tonight?" he inquired. "We're supposed to double with Callie and Vanessa, remember?"  
  
Joe's eye - the uninjured one - widened. "I'd forgotten!" he gasped. "I need to get ready…." He stood up hastily, only to make a quick grab for the edge of the desk, as a brief dizzy spell caught him by surprise. "Dang it…."  
  
"Slow down," Frank cautioned. "Quit trying to rush everything, and you'll be fine."  
  
They went upstairs, and Frank ducked into the bathroom for a hasty shower, then put on clean khakis and a long-sleeved denim shirt. Joe had lain down on his bed while Frank was in the shower, and now took his turn. It took him longer than his brother; he had to be careful about his stitches, and his bruised shoulder made moving a painful process, but eventually he, too, was dressed and ready to go.  
  
"I'm glad they took the bandage off before I left the hospital," he commented, as the boys descended the stairs. "I look scary enough as it is!"  
  
Callie was the first to be picked up, since she lived closer to the Hardys, and when she climbed into the van she anxiously inquired as to Joe's health.  
  
"I'm okay," he assured her. "What's that line?…'bloodied but unbowed.' That's me!"  
  
She snorted. "Yeah, that's you all right. But really, I'm glad you were feeling up to coming tonight."  
  
Frank drove out to the Benders' farmhouse, and Vanessa hurried out to join them. She slid into the van's middle seat next to Joe, and cuddled close, and he happily put his arm around her. It had been awhile since the four of them had shared a 'real date,' and they were looking forward to it.  
  
The movie was a new release - a live-action version of an old TV cartoon the teens had watched since they were small. The theater was full of people, and the movie was fun. Afterwards, Frank, Joe, and the girls decided to drop by Mr. Pizza, and there they found several of their friends. When they started comparing notes on the evening, they found that Chet and Biff had been at the movie too, and that Phil had seen an earlier showing.  
  
"What I think we should go see…" Joe paused to wind a strand of mozzarella cheese about the point of his slice of pizza, "…is Ninja Frogs of L.A.!"  
  
"You've already seen it - and so have I." Frank objected, picking stray olive slices off the pizza pan and popping them into his mouth.  
  
"I know, but I want to see it again." Joe persisted. "I love the way the created the 'live' versions of Dimitri and Domino, the two mutant frogs."  
  
"The ones who save Los Angeles?" Chet inquired, with his mouth full.  
  
"Uh-huh." Joe munched his pizza contentedly.  
  
"Actually, it would be fun." Vanessa agreed. She liked movies like these; since her mother worked in computer animation creating Rex Rover cartoons, she loved seeing related works. "I get such a kick out of Grater, the mutated cheese-eating mongoose." She paused, suddenly contemplating the pizza. "…cheese-eating…" she murmured…then shrugged, and continued eating.  
  
"Oh yeah, he's great!" Biff's deep chuckle rumbled over the conversation. "He infiltrated the Warmer Sisters' studio, and is making movies with subliminal messages in them, telling humans to adopt cows and make cheese!"  
  
Chet grinned. "Say, Joe - don't you have to go home and milk the cows?" he kidded. Joe rolled his eyes, but joined in the laughter. Biff kept up the joke, by pretending to go into a trance, and demanding the cheese off Joe's pizza. "I've been sublimated," he intoned. "Must…have…cheese…now!" He made a grab for a slice of pizza, only to have his hand smacked by Callie. "Ow!"  
  
Eventually, the party broke up, and Joe and Frank took the girls home. As they drove back home from Callie's house, Joe admitted he was feeling a little wiped out by the activity.  
  
"Think I'll head for bed when we get home." he said. Frank nodded agreeably. He didn't want Joe to overdo, but knew better than to keep harping on it. But if Joe himself thought of taking it easy….!  
  
But when they got home, Joe's attention shifted from bed to the computer. He decided to check the mystery story site, and see if anything new had come up in Truth and Consequences. As he logged on, a melodic chime sounded, and a smooth voice announced You've got mail!  
  
Joe grimaced. "Can't we kill the sound on that, or get a different service? That voice grates on my nerves!"  
  
"You're just grouchy because you don't feel good." Frank told him, rapidly typing in his password to access his mail. "Ah - it's a reply from the site webmaster!" Quickly, he scanned the message. "Oh nuts…says he can't give out the address, but he'll pass on a message to the author if I want." He swiftly typed a reply, explaining that the author in question was a possible suspect in a case. "Maybe that will shake something loose."  
  
"Check the story site," Joe urged him, and Frank obliged. To their gratification, there was a new chapter posted in Truth and Consequences, and the boys read it avidly. But as it progressed, they began to feel uneasy…and when the chapter ended….  
  
"Someone broke into the teacher's house for the second time…" Frank breathed. "and tries to kill her!"  
  
"Second time!" Joe exclaimed. "Ms. Westerman!" He jumped up from his chair and dashed from the room, yelling back "Come on!" to Frank. Frank, equally alarmed, followed at a run.  
  
They drove through the late-night-deserted streets of Bayport, and soon were at Ms. Westerman's house. They hurried up the walk, and Frank was about to knock on the door, when they were startled to hear a scream erupt from the second floor of the house! 


	9. Chapter 9

Joe rattled the doorknob, hoping for another lucky break, but this time the door was locked. "How can we get in?" he cried in frustration. "Stand back." Frank commanded, and set himself for a full-force karate kick. His foot struck the door latch with stunning impact, and the lock popped free of the splintered wood. The boys shoved the door open and rushed inside, into the darkened entry hall. From upstairs, a light dimly shone down the staircase.  
  
As they hovered uncertainly in the hall, the sound of footsteps reached their ears, followed by a sudden crashing noise in the bushes outside!  
  
"Someone's escaping!" Joe cried, and swung about, darting out the front door in pursuit of the intruder.  
  
Frank mounted the stairs quickly, calling Ms. Westerman's name. He located her standing in the middle of her bedroom, clad in silky yellow pajamas…and hysterical! She clutched at him, shaking and sobbing, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"He - it was - I c-can't…" She gasped, and sobbed, and clung frantically to him "I - I saw…"  
  
"Take it easy," Frank tried to calm the overwrought woman, patting her back soothingly. "Take some deep breaths."  
  
But Danielle Westerman continued to sob and stammer out incoherent phrases, disconnected sentence fragments which made no sense to the elder Hardy boy. Frank managed to guide her to a chair, and made her sit down, still murmuring reassurances, but wondering when she was going to snap out of this hysterical fit. I wonder what would happen to me if I slapped a teacher…? he mused. He was starting to feel slightly exasperated. Ms. Westerman didn't appear to be injured, and nothing in the room looked disturbed.  
  
As if sensing his thoughts, the woman finally took several shuddering breaths and managed to control her sobs. "I'm…sorry." she gulped. "I was - so frightened!"  
  
"Can you tell me what happened?" Frank inquired, relieved that she finally seemed coherent.  
  
"A man - I'd swear it was the same one who was here before! - came in through the window!" She pointed to the aperture, and Frank gave it a keen glance.  
  
"It was open?" he demanded, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Why did you have the window open?"  
  
"It's too hot to sleep with it closed." she replied, a slightly defensive note in her voice.  
  
Frank frowned slightly. She's already had one break-in, but still she left a window open - almost like she was inviting danger…daring someone to try to get in!  
  
A door slammed downstairs, causing Ms. Westerman to gasp again in alarm. Hurried footsteps on the stairs sounded through the house, and in a moment Joe appeared in the doorway, looking worried and exasperated.  
  
"Ms. Westerman, are you all right?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes," she nodded. "I'm grateful that you two showed up - but why are you here?" she added, tilting her head, the terrified expresssion in her eyes now replaced by one of curiosity.  
  
"Just a hunch," Joe said, not wishing to alarm her by telling of the Internet fanfiction story coming true. "I never saw anyone outside," he continued in disgust. "I don't know how the guy managed to get away so fast - never heard footsteps running, or a motor. I did think I saw a dog, but - hey!" he stopped in surprise. "Where's your dog? Why wasn't he protecting you?"  
  
"I took him to the vet today, to be neutered," Ms. Westerman replied. "and he stayed there overnight."  
  
Frank walked over to the bedside table and reached for the telephone. "I'm going to call this in to the police." he announced.  
  
"Oh, that's - not necessary," Danielle interposed. "I'll call them. You've both been so kind - thank you. But you don't need to worry about anything more…"  
  
"Don't you want us to wait until the police arrive?" Frank asked, wondering if he was imagining it…or if Danielle Westerman really did want them to leave?  
  
"No, I'll be fine." She smiled at him tremulously. "I do appreciate the thought, though."  
  
"I'm afraid we - I - broke your door lock." Frank admitted.  
  
For a moment, Ms. Westerman looked distressed, but recovered her poise, and smiled. "That's a small thing, considering what might have happened if you hadn't arrived. I'll call the police now, if you don't mind seeing yourselves out." She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone receiver.  
  
Feeling summarily dismissed, Frank and Joe went downstairs and exited the house. Once outside, they looked around, trying to see how an intruder could have gained access to Ms. Westerman's bedroom window.  
  
"There." Joe pointed. A large tree grew near the house, and was leaning within inches of the window in question. It appeared that the tree had once been struck by lightning, and the trunk had grown sideways from the site of the strike. "Easy reach."  
  
"She ought to have that cut down," Frank commented. "It's way too convenient for burglars."  
  
"Uh-huh," Joe sighed wearily. "Let's go home…I think I've had enough for tonight."  
  
When they reached their home, the boys checked the computer for new e-mail messages, but found nothing, nor were there any new chapters posted on the mystery fanfiction site.  
  
"I'm for bed." Joe muttered, and headed for the stairs with Frank willingly at his heels.  
  
The next morning, Frank awoke early - a habit he regretted each and every Saturday morning. Knowing better than to awaken Joe, Frank rose and dressed quietly, then went downstairs to the den, where he switched on the computer and accessed the mystery website.  
  
There was a new chapter posted in Truth and Consequences! Frank leaned his chin on his fist and stared intently at the screen, following the lines of print. To his definite unease, he read about Jeremy and Fletcher's dash to save the teacher from an intruder - saved by our heroes! Frank sputtered with laughter at that comment - and kept on reading. He began to frown as he found that Jeremy and Fletcher had returned home, gone to bed…and that something happened to Jeremy…Fletcher awakes and wonders what is wrong….  
  
With a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, Frank left the den and hurried upstairs, heading for Joe's room. To his surprise, the door was locked. Joe never locks his door! Not wanting to waste time going through his room and the connecting bathroom, Frank stepped back and launched a kick at the door. The noise of his foot connecting resounded through the quiet house, and the lock gave with a snap!  
  
Frank shoved the door open, and stood on the threshold, staring in horrified shock at Joe, lying quietly in his bed, his pajama shirt stained a nauseating red! 


	10. Chapter 10

Frank approached the bed, his heart hammering in his throat with apprehension. Joe was sprawled on his back in bed, the covers pushed off, his pajama shirt covered in reddish….something! Surely not blood?  
Frank glanced back at the door, as Laura arrived on the scene in her robe, awakened by the noise of him breaking in Joe's door. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand, her blue eyes wide with shock at the sight of her youngest son.  
  
He's breathing…. Frank neared the bed and leaned closer, and as he did so, a familiar aroma smote his nostrils. He reached down and put a finger in the red stuff on Joe's shirt, then brought it near his nose. Then he touched it to his tongue. "Catalina salad dressing!"  
  
"What?" Laura stepped into the room, the shock fading from her face. "Salad dressing? What on earth…?"  
  
"Joe, wake up." Frank shook his brother's shoulder, gently. "Joe?" He shook it again.  
  
There was no response from Joe.  
  
Frank tried again, shaking a little harder this time. "Joe! Wake up!"  
  
Joe moaned slightly, and his head rolled sideways on the pillow. He took a deep breath, and returned to his slumbers.  
  
"Joe!" Frank had stopped being gentle. Why wouldn't Joe awaken? He shook him again.  
  
Laura was hovering beside him now. "Frank, what's wrong with him?"  
  
"I'm not sure…Mom, don't we have some smelling salts around here? Let's try that - maybe it will help." Frank requested.  
  
In a few moments, Laura returned with a small vial, which she uncapped and held beneath Joe's nose. His nose twitched, and he shook his head, but then turned away once more, and his eyes did not open.  
  
"Why won't he wake up?" Laura was starting to sound a little frantic.  
  
Frank had noticed something - every time Joe moved his head on the pillow, he seemed to sink deeper into this strange sleep. Frank removed the pillow from beneath Joe's head, and examined it closely. He reached into the pillowcase, and pulled out a cloth - a damp cloth! Even without holding it to his nose, Frank knew what was on it, for the smell of chloroform suddenly permeated the air!  
  
Hastily, Frank shoved the rag back into the pillowcase, and tossed it to the floor. "Try the smelling salts again, Mom."  
  
Laura held the little vial underneath Joe's nose once more. This time, Joe rolled his head back and forth as the strong ammoniate scent filled his head and began to clear the fog.  
  
Abruptly, his eyes snapped open, and he stared up into his mother's and brother's faces, then sat up with a jerk. That proved to be a BIG mistake!  
  
Frank saw it coming, and snatched the wastebasket from beneath Joe's desk, just in time. He shoved it under Joe's face, and Laura grabbed it and held it steady, as Frank put a supporting arm behind Joe's back.  
  
Perhaps a minute later, Joe lay back on the bed, his face white and covered with beads of sweat. His black eye stood out sharply against the pallor of his skin.  
  
"Lie still, honey. I'll get you a cold washcloth." Laura told him. She took the malodorous waste can away to the bathroom.  
  
"Glad…to…" Joe whispered. He still felt nauseated, and the room was spinning nastily, increasing the sensation. "No - wait…" He fumbled with the buttons of his salad-dressing-drenched pajamas. "I've got to get this off…it makes it worse…."  
  
Frank helped him remove the offending shirt. "You gonna be okay?" he asked sympathetically, as Laura returned and laid the cool cloth on Joe's forehead.  
  
"Yeah…." Joe mumbled, but Frank shook his head dubiously. Joe didn't look anything close to okay.  
  
"Mom, don't touch anything else," Frank warned her, as she went back to the bathroom to get the rinsed-out waste can. "I'm going to use the phone in your room and call the police."  
  
Surprisingly quickly, considering the early weekend hour, Sergeant Con Riley and John Garner, formerly of the Los Angeles Police Department, arrived at the Hardy home. Laura led them up the stairs to Joe's room.  
  
"John has just joined the Bayport PD," Riley informed the Hardys, introducing them. "He's our new forensics officer."  
  
"Welcome to Bayport," Frank greeted the man.  
  
"Yeah," Joe added weakly from his bed.  
  
"It's nice to meet you boys. You too, ma'am." Garner returned the greeting. "I've heard a lot about the Hardys since I arrived in Bayport and I have been looking forward to meeting you. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."  
  
Garner commenced the investigation of Joe's room, careful to stay out of Joe's way after he once again sat up and was violently sick in the wastebasket.  
  
"Joe," Riley asked him kindly, before beginning his questioning. "Do you want us to hold off on this for a while, until you're not feeling quite so rotten?"  
  
"N…no." Joe murmured weakly. "I think…it's getting a little…better." He lifted his head slightly as Frank entered the room. "Frank - could you - give me a hand? I think I'd like to…get out of here…."  
  
"Sure, you can lie on my bed." Frank nodded. He helped Joe to his feet, and walked him slowly through the bathroom into his own room, where he eased Joe onto his bed. "There, just stay quiet a little longer; the effects of this stuff should be wearing off soon."  
  
"And there's nothing left to come up, anyway." Joe murmured, trying to smile.  
  
Frank returned to Joe's room, and answered Riley's questions about how Frank knew something was wrong and how he had found Joe and the room. Joe, when questioned, had no answers…he had been sound asleep, and never heard a thing.  
  
Frank watched as Garner took pictures of the room, then pulled on a pair of gloves, and with a mini-vacuum, cleaned up around the bed. Then he changed vacuum bags and vacuumed the path from the window, where it was assumed the intruder had entered, to the bed. He took the pillowcase, rag and pillow included and placed it inside a garbage bag and sealed it shut with tape. Then he took the bedding and sealed it in another bag, and Joe's pajama shirt in another. After this, he took more pictures of the scene.  
  
"With a little luck, we might be able to get something from the rag the chloroform was on," Garner informed Frank. "We will definitely be able to get some hair and dead skin samples as well as soil composition from where the perpetrator stepped on the carpet."  
  
"You can learn a lot from a little, can't you?" Frank asked in awe.  
  
"You would be amazed," Garner concurred, smiling.  
  
"Anything new come up with the Bartlett suicide case?" Frank asked then. "Or the thing with Mom's brake lines, or the bombs at the school, or…"  
  
Riley grinned ruefully. "Don't rub it in. Yeah, there actually is something, with the Bartlett case. Joe was right - he was out of town at the time of the bomb threat, so he couldn't have been responsible. But when we went over his place, we found an envelope with five thousand dollars in it. What sort of teacher has five thousand dollars in cash lying around?"  
  
"There was a chemical residue on the envelope," Garner put in. "The sort used in perfumes. If there is a connection between the teacher's death and what happened here, an analysis of the rag might be able to prove it."  
  
"Perfumes? Sounds like there might be a female involved." Frank commented. "You think the envelope might have something to do with why he was killed?"  
  
"To be honest, it's all we've got." Riley answered. "There wasn't anything else in the car, the garage, or his house that was remotely unusual."  
  
"That in itself could be suspicious." Frank remarked.  
  
"Been watching The New Avengers again, have you?" Riley asked teasingly.  
  
Frank blushed, and decided to change the subject. "Joe's English teacher, Ms. Westerman, had an intruder in her house last night - can you tell me anything about that?"  
  
"Sorry," Con shook his head. "I'd just come on duty this morning when your call came in. I didn't have a chance to go through any of the activities from last night."  
  
Riley and Garner took their leave, and Frank went into his room, while Laura dressed and then headed downstairs to prepare a belated breakfast.  
  
"Joe? You feeling any better yet?" Frank sat down on the edge of the bed, very carefully. He figured joggling Joe was not a good idea, at the moment.  
  
"Yeah…little bit." Joe opened his eyes slightly. "Did they find anything?"  
  
"Too soon to tell." Frank confessed. "Oh, but listen to this…" He related what Riley had told him about the money found at Mr. Bartlett's house.  
  
Joe frowned. "I'm getting very confused," he said. "Why are some of these things just pranks - like the pictures in the lockers and stuff…and why are some of them more dangerous?" He sat up, cautiously. "I also think I'm getting hungry," he added.  
  
Since Joe's room was no longer off limits, the younger Hardy got a pair of sweatpants and a shirt to wear, then the boys went downstairs, where Joe tentatively nibbled on toast and sipped tomato juice, while Laura and Frank ate scrambled eggs and bacon. Joe was still pondering the question he had asked upstairs, and now he repeated it.  
  
"Maybe it's two separate people?" Laura suggested, but Frank looked dubious.  
  
"Remember the fanfic story predicted both things. It's got to be the same person who's responsible for everything…or the same group of people, anyway." he stated. "It might take more than one person to do all this stuff."  
  
"To do this last 'stuff', someone had to break in here last night!" Laura snapped. "I want this person found!"  
  
"Let's check the website again." Joe suggested, when breakfast was done. Accordingly, he and Frank went into the den, and re-connected to the Internet, for the connection had "idled" out long since.  
  
"Look, there's an answer to your e-mail!" Joe indicated the signal with a finger near the screen. "It's from the webmaster!"  
  
"Hmmm…" Frank rapidly scanned the message. "…'should this story no longer be posted?'…Mmmm, he's trying to be helpful, I guess. He included an e-mail address…." He typed a reply. "How's this: please continue to post the story so that we have an indication of what is going to happen, and the author is not alerted that we are aware of what is happening." he read, and hit Send. "Now I'm going to mail the author a nice, gushy letter of fandom, saying how we're just dying to know what happens next…." Again, he typed, read it over, and sent it.  
  
"Now what?" Joe asked, when Frank finally finished his correspondence.  
  
"Well, how about if we go back over to Ms. Westerman's and see if we can come up with a reason why she was attacked?" Frank proposed.  
  
"All right - I think I can handle it." Joe still looked a little shaky, but was determined. "But we'd better get dressed," he reminded his brother, eyeing Frank, who was still clad in the t-shirt and cut-off sweatpants he had slept in.  
  
"What, I can't go over there dressed like this?" Frank joked. He was about to turn off the computer when Laura entered the den.  
  
"Go ahead and leave it on, Frank," she instructed. "I haven't read the latest things yet."  
  
The boys went upstairs, and dressed to go out, but when they went back down, Laura called them into the den once more.  
  
"Frank, Joe, there's another chapter of Truth and Consequences up! Come read this!"  
  
They hurried into the den, and leaned over Laura's shoulders, both avidly reading the story.  
  
"Hmmm….Jeremy's fine - well, that's fairly right; you weren't hurt, just sick…" Frank's voice trailed off.  
  
"But both Jeremy and Fletcher are steamed because someone's playing with their heads - boy, is he right about that!" Joe chuckled sardonically.  
  
They continued reading, and found that both Jeremy and Fletcher were scheduled for dates with their girlfriends.  
  
"Not today!" Frank crowed in triumph. "Callie went with her mother to visit a sick aunt."  
  
Joe frowned. He did have a date planned with Vanessa, to go to an afternoon movie. They kept reading.  
  
To their distress, the story line made Fletcher leave his girlfriend alone for a short time, to check on a figure following them, and when he returned, he found her lying unconscious!  
  
"That does it, I'm canceling my date with Van." Joe muttered. "I'm not risking her."  
  
"No, don't cancel," Frank advised. "Go, but don't leave her alone for a minute! I'll be there at the movie theater before you, and I'll watch for anyone shadowing you."  
  
"I don't want to…" Joe was unhappy. He was still pale from the morning's events, and the cuts and bruises his face had taken in the locker explosion contrasted sharply with his pallor. "You might get hurt. One of us hurt is bad enough."  
  
"Joe, I won't get hurt," Frank assured him. "And we have to do it this way - we might actually find something out, and we need to do that, before someone else gets killed!"  
  
Joe still looked doubtful, but finally agreed to the plan.  
  
"Mom, you'll keep checking for new chapters, right?" Frank requested of his mother, who nodded emphatically.  
  
"I certainly will!" she said. "But if you two are going to be working this afternoon, could you possibly go to Ms. Westerman's later too? The grass on the lawn is getting terribly high…" She raised an eyebrow significantly at her sons, and waited for their response.  
  
Frank chuckled. "Sure, Mom. I'll do something about it right now." He headed for the garage and the lawn mower.  
  
"I'll work on trimming the laurel bushes." Joe offered, and started to follow him, but Laura held out a detaining hand.  
  
"Not so fast, young man! You don't need to add over-exertion to everything else you've been through. You just take it easy until time for your date with Vanessa." she admonished.  
  
"Oh, all right," Joe sat down in the vacated desk chair. "I'll keep checking on the chapters, then, and look for e-mail."  
  
Joe accessed the e-mail. To his surprise, there was a notification that the message sent to Mystique had been undeliverable!  
  
Wait a minute…. If the web master has been receiving Mystique's chapters, then he must have had a correct e-mail address from her. That must mean that the web master is involved - hey, maybe the web master is Mystique! It's a web mistress, not a web master!  
  
Joe composed another e-mail to the web master: Sorry, but your message was deleted before I got the address for Mystique saved. Was it…? He deliberately misspelled the address.  
  
Deciding to do a little research, Joe went to Google and ran a search for 'Mystique' - and groaned loudly when the results came back with something like 386,000 possibilities. How can there be so many?  
  
The familiar, annoying voice announced that he had mail. Wow, that was fast! Joe thought, and accessed the mailbox. There were two messages waiting.  
  
Hey, this one's from Dad! Joe smiled, reading the note. Fenton stated that his case was nearly wrapped up, and he expected to be home by Wednesday. It ended with the reassuring words: 'love to you all - Dad.'  
  
The second message was a reply to his question to the web master. Joe read it thoughtfully. According to this, the address was exactly what had been used in the undeliverable e-mail.  
  
That does it! Joe smacked a fist into his hand. The web master is definitely involved! 


	11. Chapter 11

Mind racing, Joe accessed the mystery fanfiction site, but there were no new chapters posted of Truth and Consequences. He chewed his lip, considering. Let's see, what else can I try…? Thoughtfully, Joe tried the link to reach the host of the website, and tried to obtain a profile of the web mistress, but there was no information provided. If only Dad were home, Joe mused, he could probably go through some legal channel and find out. But he's not, and I don't want to involve Vanessa in this; it's too dangerous. Wait a minute - PHIL! He's the best computer hacker in Bayport - if anyone can find her, Phil can!  
  
Joe picked up the phone and dialed Phil Cohen's number. When Phil answered, Joe explained what had been going on, and requested his help.  
  
"Phil, I need a profile on the web mistress - or master, but I'm getting pretty sure it's a woman - and an address, if at all possible. Can do?"  
  
"No promises, Joe, but I'll do the best I can." Phil assured him.  
  
Joe grinned. "Your best is better than anyone else's, pal. Here's the info…."  
  
Joe completed his conversation with Phil, and was just logging off the computer when Frank came in, finished with the yard work.  
  
"Have I really been on here that long?" Joe asked, in fascinated wonder. "It only seemed like a few minutes!" He updated Frank on what he'd tried to find out, and tried out his theory of Mystique being the web mistress.  
  
"Why would the web mistress be doing this?" Frank pondered.  
  
"Maybe to get more online traffic?" Joe hazarded a guess.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Ads," Joe clarified. "The more hits a site gets, the more advertisers want on a site."  
  
"Yeah, but the amount of people who go there would depend on the stories, don't you think?" Frank argued.  
  
Joe nodded agreeably, but pursued his line of thought anyway. "But if people thought maybe someone was psychic, and writing a story about us - us, Frank! - that same someone could just as easily write a story about them. So people would read every day, to find out if something was happening that might be true."  
  
"But this person who's writing Truth and Consequences isn't psychic. She's doing this!" Frank's frustration was evident in his voice.  
  
"We know that," Joe tried to soothe his older brother. "but since the chapters are posted before things happen, no one else will."  
  
"How would anyone else know it in the first place?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Looked at a newspaper lately?" Joe asked. He walked over to the bookshelf, where a stack of papers lay - newspapers their mother had been saving, to clip out articles and put them in the scrapbooks she kept for her sons. He shuffled through the stack, and held up two. The front page of one contained an article about the bomb found at the school the previous week, and the front page of the other shouted out about the students injured by a bomb in a locker at Bayport High. Both articles prominently featured the names of Frank and Joe Hardy.  
  
"But how would anyone else know about it?" Frank asked again. "Not everyone gets the Bayport newspapers!"  
  
"Check the message board." Laura said, coming in on their conversation.  
  
Frank clicked the link, and brought up the message board. Sure enough, there were several messages commenting on the fact that the events in Truth and Consequences were paralleling the events at Bayport High School in New York State, and further comments on how the protagonists, Fletcher and Jeremy, resembled real-life Frank and Joe Hardy.  
  
"Must be a lot of readers n Bayport to recognize us," Frank commented.  
  
"Well, with three such fantastic detectives living here, there are probably a lot of people who find what you three do fascinating," Laura said, with an affectionate smile.  
  
"Face it," Joe added. "Even our girlfriends wanted to be detectives," he reminded Frank. "Remember when that hypnotist came to town and got teenagers to act out parts and then used tapes made to insert their images into crime scene videos?"  
  
"I had forgotten," Frank admitted, grinning ruefully at his brother.  
  
"Oh, before I forget," Joe snapped his fingers. "Dad sent an e-mail. He said he's wrapping up the case, and he should be home by Wednesday. And he sends his love," he finished.  
  
"Oh, I'm glad we've heard from him!" Laura's expression was pure relief.  
  
Deciding they could learn nothing more from the computer, the boys both went upstairs and changed; Joe to get ready for his date with Vanessa, and Frank to remove the tickly-grass-filled clothing he'd worn to mow the lawn. When Joe was ready to go, he sat down briefly to review plans with his older brother.  
  
"We're going to be at the 2:20 showing of the Ninja Frogs movie," Joe stated. "I'll delay a little, to give you time to get in before us, so if anyone is following us, they won't see you."  
  
"I hope I'm not the one being followed!" Frank exclaimed. "Fletcher was, in the story…but since I don't have a date, and little bits and pieces of the story are different, maybe that part will be, too." He wrinkled his nose expressively. "Did you guys have to pick that Ninja Frogs flick?"  
  
Half an hour later, Joe ushered Vanessa into the theater lobby, and they moved toward the refreshment stands to get popcorn and drinks. Joe's appetite had finally started to return, and he asked for the largest container of buttered popcorn available - but he hedged his bets, and requested 7-Up to drink, just in case his stomach decided to get queasy again. Vanessa ordered root beer, and the teens went in and found seats.  
  
Frank was already there, lounging in a row near the back of the room. Joe glanced his way once, then ignored him. He'd briefed Vanessa that Frank was going to be watching them, looking out for a tail, so she paid no attention to the elder Hardy boy.  
  
As they waited for the lights to dim, Frank noticed a young man enter who fit the description of the intruder at Ms. Westerman's house, and he watched him sharply. The man walked past Joe and Vanessa and took a seat, but a few minutes after the movie started, he rose to his feet and walked back out to the lobby. When he returned, the man chose a seat a few rows behind Joe and Vanessa, and from what Frank could see, he seemed to be paying more attention to them than he was to the Ninja Frogs on the screen! Frank watched him closely throughout the film.  
  
When the credits ended and the lights came up, Vanessa and Joe got up to leave, taking their places in the line of movie-goers straggling up the ramped aisle. The stranger Frank was eyeing followed them - not too close, not yet, but still, he was staying near. Frank stood up and moved towards the exit in their wake.  
  
Outside, Joe and Vanessa walked down the sidewalk toward the parked van, laughing and talking about the movie, oblivious of the man who was quietly following them, steadily drawing nearer. Joe opened the passenger door of the van, and Vanessa got in. As Joe shut the door, the stranger suddenly moved in close, and put a hand on the boy's shoulder, spinning him around.  
  
Startled, Joe jumped in surprise. Immediately, he looked past the man, seeking Frank - but Frank was nowhere to be seen! 


	12. Chapter 12

"Hi, I'm Dale Tripplett." The young man smiled, and held out his hand. "You're Joe Hardy, aren't you?"  
"Y-yeah…" Joe eyed him warily, but extended his own hand.  
  
"I've seen your photo in the newspapers before, and I've always wanted to meet you. I've never known a teenage detective before. I was thrilled when I spotted you in the theater; couldn't believe my luck!" Dale Tripplett enthused, pumping a stunned Joe's hand.  
  
"Hey Joe, what's up?" It was Frank, hurrying down the sidewalk but trying to look as if he wasn't hurrying. He had been slowed down by the crush of people exiting the theater, and had experienced a moment of panic when he saw the stranger looming over Joe. But to his surprise, he found Joe blushing and shaking the man's hand!  
  
"This is Dale Tripplett," Joe introduced their fan to his brother. "Apparently, he wanted to meet me…us." he added. "Dale, this is my brother Frank." He smiled, as Vanessa opened the door of the van and climbed out. "And this is Vanessa Bender."  
  
"How do you do - nice to meet you." Dale Tripplett bobbed his head and spoke rapidly. "Wow, both of you are here? I didn't see you inside, Frank - wow, this is so exciting! I love reading about the things you do, in the Times."  
  
"You read the Bayport Times a lot, huh?" Frank inquired carefully. He looked carefully at Tripplett. Tightly curled brown hair…mid-twenties…about Joe's height. That is awfully close to the description Ms. Westerman gave Joe for the intruder in her house.  
  
"Well, yeah - it's sort of an integral part of my job." Tripplett answered. "I work for the Times!"  
  
"Oh? Is it enjoyable work?" Frank made polite conversation, mentally making a note to check out the guy, once he got home. He intended to leave nothing to chance!  
  
"Oh, I'm just a copy boy," Dale Tripplett admitted. "But reading about your cases is very interesting." He paused briefly, debating on whether or not to ask them something. Seeing how attentive they were, he plunged ahead.  
  
"The truth is, I want to write an article for the Times but I need something that will get the editor's attention. I was wondering if, perhaps, I could interview you two?" Tripplett asked hopefully.  
  
Joe looked at Frank. 'Your call,' his eyes said.  
  
"I suppose that could be arranged," Frank said. But not until after I check you out, he added silently. "Perhaps you could give us a call - say Thursday, or Friday afternoon?"  
  
"That would be great!" Tripplett enthused. "Thanks!" he added and bid them goodbye.  
  
"You shouldn't be so surprised," Vanessa told them, smiling proudly at Joe. "You two are pretty famous around here and everyone knows you don't give interviews except on rare occasions."  
  
Frank exchanged a rueful grin with his brother. "Guess we got worried over nothing, huh? I'll meet you two over at Mr. Pizza." He watched closely while Joe and Vanessa returned to the van, then went to where his motorcycle was parked, and headed for the pizza place.  
  
After their arrival, the Hardys and Vanessa were soon joined by Biff Hooper and his girlfriend Karen, and Chet Morton and his best girl, Helen. Frank definitely felt himself to be the odd man out, being the only one dateless, but still managed to have a good time, and the early evening passed quickly as the teens ate pizza, talked about the movie, and laughed and joked.  
  
When the party broke up, it was still early, but Vanessa claimed to have a report to write which she hadn't even started yet, and which was due on Monday, plus she was worried that Joe was becoming overtired after his numerous injuries of the past few days. She and Joe got once again into the Hardys' van, and Joe drove to the Bender home, with Frank following him closely on his motorcycle. He didn't wish to take any chances with Joe's safety - or Vanessa's, for that matter! While Joe bid Vanessa a tender goodnight, Frank dragged out the collapsible loading ramp from the back of the van, then pulled his motorcycle into the vehicle. Joe joined him a few minutes later, and they drove home together.  
  
"Guess that prediction didn't come true," Joe commented, as they pulled into the driveway.  
  
"It did to a point," Frank corrected him. "I did think someone was following you - well, Dale Tripplett was following you, actually! - but then, we were in the mind frame for it. After reading that chapter, we were expecting it."  
  
"You think maybe the author knows we know what she's up to?" Joe asked.  
  
Frank seemed to think it over, then shrugged. "How could she, unless..."  
  
"Unless?" Joe pushed, as his brother fell silent.  
  
"Unless she is someone we know!"  
  
When they went into the house, they found their mother watching television in the living room. She smiled and accepted their kisses hello, then told them that she had received a surprising phone call.  
  
"My car is repaired!" she announced. "Rob Daltry, the mechanic, said we could go ahead and pick it up any time over the weekend, and square the bill on Monday." Mr. Daltry had done repair work numerous times for the Hardys, and knew the charges would be paid; this wasn't the first time he had gone out of his way to get them a car returned out of normal business hours.  
  
"Want to go get it now?" Joe gave Frank an inquiring look.  
  
"In a minute," Frank nodded. "First, though, I want to check for any new chapters up, in Truth and Consequences."  
  
Accordingly, the boys checked the website, but found nothing new posted. Even the message board seemed deserted.  
  
"We can check it again when we get home." Joe commented, and the two boys left to pick up Mrs. Hardy's car. On the way to the garage, they discussed plans for the rest of the evening. Joe indicated that he wanted to stop by Phil Cohen's house, and see if Phil had found anything out about the web mistress's profile.  
  
"Okay, sounds good." Frank nodded, as he got out of the van at Bayport Auto Body. "I'll pick up Mom's car, go back home and log on, and keep an eye out for any new developments."  
  
When Joe arrived at the Cohen home and rang the doorbell, Phil opened the door.  
  
"Come on in," he invited.  
  
"Did you find anything?" Joe demanded, foregoing preliminary remarks in his impatience to find out anything about the mysterious Mystique.  
  
"Yeah…but you aren't going to like it." Phil told him.  
  
"What is it?" Joe demanded. He expected Phil to tell him it was someone from school - whether student or teacher, Joe didn't know.  
  
"It's your address," Phil said unhappily. "And the site fees were charged to Laura Hardy, on a Mastercard account."  
  
"WHAT?" Joe exploded. "That's preposterous!"  
  
"I know, I know," Phil tried to soothe him a little. "But like it or not, Joe, that's what the info came up."  
  
"Well, it's not Mom!" Joe said hotly. "Whoever is running that site is a computer hacker! Did you get any information we could use at all?" he asked, more calmly.  
  
"No, sorry." Phil shook his head. "There just wasn't anything there."  
  
"Can we check the site from your computer?" Joe asked then. "Maybe there's new messages, or even a new chapter up."  
  
"Sure - everything's downstairs; you know that. Let's go."  
  
When the boys accessed the website, they never got to the message board, for indeed, another chapter of Truth and Consequences had just been posted. Joe and Phil read it, avidly.  
  
"Jeremy arrives home from his date…finds - what?" Joe broke off, aghast.  
  
"Finds his mother unconscious on the sofa," Phil took up the narrative breathlessly. "He starts towards her, and something strikes him on the back of his head…."  
  
"When he comes to, he and his mother are gagged and bound to chairs, backs together in the center of the room…and…and…" Joe choked over the words.  
  
"And the room is on fire!" Phil breathed.  
  
"Come on! We've got to get over there!" Joe leaped up from his chair and darted towards the basement stairs, with Phil racing after him. The boys hurled themselves into the van, and Joe drove as rapidly as he dared to the Hardy home. He pulled up beside the curb with a screech of brakes, and jumped from the van, staring in horror at the living room window, where smoke could be seen billowing outward! 


	13. Chapter 13

When Frank arrived home, he parked his mother's car in the garage and entered the house through the kitchen door. Everything seemed very quiet. Mom must be in the den, using the computer, he thought, and proceeded to walk in that direction. As he passed by the living room, however, he glanced in, and saw Laura lying on the sofa, apparently sound asleep. Slightly surprised – for it wasn't all that late – Frank took a couple steps into the room, moving past the breakfront which stood against one of the walls. Vaguely, he sensed that he was needing to step around it carefully; it seemed to be protruding into the room more than it customarily did. It didn't register with him that someone could be hiding behind it…until he felt a crashing blow to the back of his head, and fell to the floor, unconscious!  
  
Some time later, Frank opened his eyes, and slowly became aware that he had a throbbing headache. He automatically tried to lift a hand to rub his head – and realized that he was unable to do so. He was bound securely to a chair…one of the dining room chairs, he noted dimly, and there was a gag tied across his mouth. Turning his head to look around, he saw he was in the living room, and to his horror, saw another chair, back-to-back with his own. Seated in it, bound and gagged just as he was, was his mother. From the little Frank could see, she was either asleep or unconscious, her head drooping forward.  
  
Suddenly, Frank took in the fact that the air in the room was filling with smoke, and with shock, he saw that the living room drapes were on fire! He struggled frantically with his bonds, trying to loosen them, but to no avail; they were securely tied, and the knots were nowhere near his hands. He began to cough, for the fire was spreading, and the acrid smoke becoming thicker.  
  
From where he was sitting, Frank could see the clock on the wall, and knew that he'd been unconscious for nearly an hour. Where was Joe? Why hadn't he returned home yet? Joe, come on – come on, little brother, I need you really, really bad right now! Frank concentrated hard; he didn't believe in psychic links, but at this point anything was worth a try, and there wasn't anything else he could do! He coughed again, harder, the sounds muffled by the gag, and heard his mother doing the same. She was evidently conscious, for he felt her struggling against the ropes, but like him, Laura could do nothing to free herself.  
  
As if in answer to his urgent thoughts, Frank heard a noise at the front door, then a muffled shout, and seconds later, Joe and Phil burst into the room. Phil darted over to them, and started untying Laura, while Joe dashed for the kitchen to get the small fire extinguisher kept there.  
  
"Hang on, Frank; I'll get you in a minute…" Phil panted, jerking at the cords holding Mrs. Hardy to her chair. Joe returned, and started spraying the fire with the extinguisher, but the flames were already too far advanced to be contained. The extinguisher was soon emptied, and still the fire grew, licking at the walls next to the window. Joe flung the canister down and ran to free Frank, as Phil helped Laura to her feet and assisted her to the front door.  
  
"Here – almost got it…" Joe had grabbed not only the fire extinguisher from the kitchen, but a sharp knife as well, and he quickly slashed the cords holding Frank, then helped his brother stand.  
  
Frank staggered and nearly fell, dizzy from the smoke and the earlier blow to the head. Joe pulled Frank's arm across his shoulder, then half-walked, half-carried him to the door. Fresh air hit their faces, and both boys gasped in relief. As they stumbled down the porch steps, the scream of a siren sounded, and a fire engine roared to a stop in front of their house.  
  
Stan Axemeyer came running out of his house and seeing Laura sitting on the ground with one of the boys' friends, rushed over to see if she was all right, as firefighters leaped from the engine, and in what seemed like merely seconds, had their hoses connected to a hydrant, and were inside the house, spraying water on the fire. A police cruiser and a paramedics' truck swept up behind the fire engine.  
  
Phil beckoned the EMT's over as they emerged from their vehicle. Joe guided Frank to a seat beside his mother, and then stepped back to let the paramedics work. Both Mrs. Hardy and Frank were given supplemental oxygen for a few minutes, and the bump on Frank's head was examined, but neither one was actually hurt, and they both shook their heads in refusal when the medics suggested they go to the hospital and be checked over.  
  
"Is there anything I can do?" Stan Axemeyer hovered anxiously about, watching the Hardys, and the fire crew. Laura assured him that they were essentially unhurt, and needed nothing, so Stan returned to his own house, looking back and shaking his head in disbelief over his neighbors' woes.  
  
"It's out." One of the firefighters came over to the little group on the lawn, to report. "There's some smoke damage to the walls, but mostly what was burned was the draperies. It's going to reek to high heaven, but it's habitable. How did it start, anyway?"  
  
Officer Lennet, of the Bayport Police, had joined the Hardys and Phil, as well. Middle-aged, with thinning black hair and brown eyes, Lennet was a bit on the heavy side, but still in good condition. He got out his notebook and jotted notes as the Hardys related what they could about what had happened. Laura told them she really had been napping on the couch before Frank's arrival, and had awakened to find a cushion being pressed over her face, cutting off her air supply until she lost consciousness.  
  
"It was lucky that Joe came home when he did," Lennet commented, snapping his notebook shut. "Otherwise instead of facing an arson charge, whoever did this would be up for murder!"  
  
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Joe growled. "I came home because Phil and I read the newest chapter of Truth and Consequences." But Officer Lennet had already turned away.  
  
"I was online for about half an hour after you left," Mrs. Hardy said. "And there weren't any new chapters posted then."  
  
"And I came straight home, after I picked up Mom's car." Frank said. "That only leaves a window of maybe 20 minutes. Until now, the chapters have always been posted before things happened. Not this time. Why the change?"  
  
The paramedics left, followed by the fire truck, which roared down the street, its engine making nearly as much racket as if the siren had been used. Detective Garner, who had come along with Officer Lennet, waved at the Hardys and got into the squad car with Lennet. The police departed, and the Hardys and Phil were left standing on the front lawn by themselves.  
  
"Let's go in and face it." Laura sounded resigned, and she led the way towards the front door with grimly set features. But things weren't quite as bad as they might have been. Although things were soaking wet from the firefighters' hoses, and the wall was scorched and blackened with soot, it looked to be easily repaired. Laura looked about her ordinarily-neat living room and sighed wearily.  
  
"I'm going to bed," she said. "I'll work on cleaning up the mess tomorrow." She bid Phil goodnight, kissed Frank and Joe, and went upstairs.  
  
"Let's go in and see what it says on the story site," Joe suggested, and the three boys headed into the den. The computer was still on, and Frank looked enquiringly at it.  
  
"Mom always turns it off when she's done." he noted. "Do you suppose whoever hit us and started the fire also turned on the computer?"  
  
Phil sat down and reached for the mouse. After a moment, he frowned. "Guys…another computer has been accessed from here."  
  
"Can you access it again?" Frank demanded eagerly.  
  
"Yup…just a minute…." Phil's fingers moved surely over the keyboard. "There. Hmmm, apparently that computer is still logged on. Whoever the culprit is must not have been able to return home and disconnect." He clicked the mouse again and again, exploring the files on the computer which had been accessed from their own. Finally, he leaned back and looked up at Frank and Joe. "It's your web master." he said. "That last chapter posted was done from here!" Phil began looking for something which might reveal who the web master was, but abruptly, he was cut off.  
  
"I forgot!" Joe said. "I'd better tell Mom to cancel her credit card! And see if the company can tell us when the charge for the services was posted."  
  
"Huh?" Frank stared at him uncomprehendingly.  
  
Joe, however, was already heading towards the stairs, hoping his mother was still awake. It fell to Phil to explain what had happened with Mrs. Hardy's credit card being charged for the site fees. Frank was incensed, but realized there wasn't anything they could do at the moment, other than cancel the card.  
  
Phil was checking out the message board now, looking for more comments featuring the Hardys. He read silently for a few minutes, then sat back. "Look." he said quietly. "I've noticed something. All the posts that mention you guys by name have the same style of writing. No mistakes: no dangling participles, no spelling errors, no chat-speak. It's kind of like that chapter that Joe and I read."  
  
Frank stared at his friend. "Go back to the story." he commanded.  
  
Phil was right. All the chapters were written the same way – perfect grammar, perfect sentence structure, no slang.  
  
"Theory time," Frank said grimly. "Whoever is posting about Frank and Joe is also the writer of the story about Fletcher and Jeremy, and is also the person in charge of the site!"  
  
Joe came back downstairs. "Mom's fit to be tied," he announced cheerfully. "She called the credit card company right away, and they've canceled the card, and are removing the charges for the site fees."  
  
"Let's call it a night." Frank sighed. "I've got a headache, and I want some sleep. Phil, I'd offer to let you sleep here, but everything smells like smoke. So I'll run you home." He got to his feet and headed for the door, followed by Phil.  
  
"I'm going to call Vanessa." Joe reached for the phone. "I want to make sure she's okay, and that she wasn't attacked too."  
  
The next day, Frank rose early, feeling much better. His headache was gone, and when he went downstairs, he found that much of the smoky odor had dissipated, thanks to the windows which had been opened the night before. He went into the den and turned on the computer.  
  
He was still sitting in front of the monitor when Joe and Laura came downstairs. Laura fixed breakfast, and the three ate, then set to work to clear up the mess in the living room. A couple of hours' hard work had the room looking much better, and Laura consoled herself with the thought that they had needed new drapes anyway.  
  
Frank and Joe checked in the garage for paint which matched the walls, but what was there wasn't nearly enough to cover the smoke-stained walls.  
  
"Nothing to do but go to the hardware store and get some more," Frank remarked, and jotted down the name of the paint, to be sure they got the right one. He and Joe were just preparing to leave for the store, when Laura called to them from the den.  
  
"Frank! Joe! Another new chapter has been posted!"  
  
The boys bounded in, and sat down in front of the desk. As they accessed the story, Joe began to grumble.  
  
"We're doing exactly what the writer wants, you know – we're visiting the site over and over and over, to see if something new is posted. Look! See that?" he growled. "Pop-ups! That means Mystique has already started making money off the things that are happening to us!"  
  
To his surprise, Joe found that Frank wasn't sharing his indignation. Instead, his older brother was grinning widely, and reaching for his cell phone, which was sitting on the desk. Frank punched digits and waited patiently for the call to be answered.  
  
"Phil? It's Frank – what's wrong, you sound….Oh. Sorry – yeah, I know, I know; we interrupted that project you were working on, and you needed to finish it, but – hey, listen! The mystery site has advertisements popping up!" He grinned wickedly, listening to Phil's reply. "Thanks, we owe you!" he said, and ended the call.  
  
"Okay, what was all that about?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Well, first off, Phil had to stay up all night to finish the project we interrupted;" Frank ticked items off on his fingers. "And second, and more importantly – he can trace who the advertisers are paying by hacking into their systems. He's off and running!"  
  
The boys and Laura settled down to read the latest chapter. According to Mystique, Fletcher had rescued his mother and Jeremy from the fire.  
  
"Wrong again!" Joe growled. "It was Fletcher in the fire, not Jeremy!"  
  
"Shhh." Frank waved him to silence. "I'm reading."  
  
The chapter went on; Fletcher was determined not to let anyone else try to hurt his mom or little brother, but the antagonist – unnamed as yet – had other ideas. A trap was set for Fletcher. The next time he left the house, he would be the recipient of a poisoned dart. The chapter ended with Jeremy making Fletcher stay home because they have uncovered the plot against them, and Jeremy going to the store to get items needed to repair the damage caused by the fire.  
  
"Right!" Frank snarled. "Where would our assailant get a poisoned dart? And if he thinks I'd let you go to the store by yourself, he's crazy!"  
  
Mrs. Hardy was looking at her sons with a worried frown. "I don't like the idea of either of you risking yourselves." she said. "I have a better idea. Why don't you call Chet, and see if he can pick up what we need and bring it over?"  
  
Frank's scowl lightened, and Joe laughed. "Mom, you're the greatest! You've outwitted the evil Mystique!" He picked up the phone and dialed Chet's number, and their friend readily agreed to help them out.  
  
"I've been dying of curiosity about the fire!" Chet announced. "It's on the front page of the newspaper!"  
  
Curious, Frank checked the site message board again, and found that already another note had been posted, relating the events in the story to Frank and Joe Hardy.  
  
"I sure wish I knew who was doing those messages!" Joe grumbled, reading over Frank's shoulder.  
  
"But we do!" Frank turned to him, surprised. "Oh – wait a minute, you were upstairs with Mom last night when Phil and I found the link between the messages and the story! Wait'll you hear!" Quickly, he told Joe and Laura what he and Phil had discovered.  
  
"What do you say we go and visit Ms. Westerman, your English teacher." Frank suggested, then.  
  
"Why?" Joe asked.  
  
"Well, whoever is in charge of this site obviously has it in for her, otherwise she wouldn't have been attacked twice – and she is in the story, after all! Maybe she knows who it is." Frank reasoned.  
  
But before they could set out, Laura vetoed the idea.  
  
"Not a chance, kids. Chet will be here soon with the paint, and the living room walls have the first priority this afternoon. Ms. Westerman is just going to have to wait."  
  
Several hours later, with the living room walls wearing a fresh coat of paint and lunch having been eaten, Frank and Joe bid their mother goodbye and set out for Ms. Westerman's home. 


	14. Chapter 14

Joe parked the van across the street from Ms. Westerman's house, and the two boys got out and went up the sidewalk to the front door. They knocked, and waited for a response. "Listen," Frank murmured. "I hear the dog barking."  
  
At that moment, Ms. Westerman opened the door. She looked slightly startled to see Frank and Joe standing there, but she politely invited them in. A large German Shepherd dog stood further back in the hall, ears pricked alertly.  
  
"Joe, you've already met my baby, but I want to introduce Frank to him. Frank, this is Caramel." She fondly patted the big dog. Frank stretched out his hand, fist closed, to let Caramel sniff. The dog did so, and then wagged his tail in a friendly fashion, and allowed the boys to stroke his furry head.  
  
That dog looks familiar, Frank thought, but I can't place where I've seen it before.  
  
"Ms. Westerman, we'd like to ask you a few questions, if we may." Joe broached the subject.  
  
"Why, certainly, Joe." The teacher smiled. "Let's go into the living room and sit down. There's no reason we can't be comfortable while you ask, is there?"  
  
Once settled in the living room, Frank and Joe started their inquiries.  
  
"Ms. Westerman, do you have any enemies?" Frank began.  
  
"Enemies?" She chuckled softly. "I can't think of any, aside from a few students I've had to give failing grades to. Why?"  
  
"This is going to sound crazy," Joe began. "but there's this website on the Internet that has mystery stories – and all of a sudden, there's this one story that is predicting things that have happened to us – and you're in it. I mean, there's a teacher in it that has been attacked, just as you were. We think whoever is writing that story is a local person, and is manipulating events to match the story line."  
  
"How very strange!" she marveled. "Do you think it's someone from school?"  
  
"That's exactly what we think." Frank told her. "And furthermore, I think it's someone from the English department."  
  
"Why?" Ms. Westerman's response was immediate, but neither boy noticed anything unusual about the rapid reply. She went on, naming everyone in Bayport High's English department, including herself. "No one seems likely to be doing this from that group." she commented. "Are you sure it isn't a student?"  
  
"I doubt that it's a student." Frank replied. "A student doesn't write that well."  
  
"There were no grammatical errors, no dangling participles, no slang, and the spelling – unlike mine – was perfect." Joe chimed in.  
  
"And you know this how?" Ms. Westerman teasingly asked him, knowing Joe's English grades bordered on B-minuses.  
  
"Ms. Westerman, when the intruder broke in here, are you sure nothing was taken?" Frank asked, now. "No photos, no mementoes, no jewelry?"  
  
"No, I'm positive nothing was taken." she replied firmly. "I really don't know why he broke into my house, whoever he was. And the fact that he did it twice really bothers me." She shivered slightly. "I'm really glad I have Caramel back from the vet now, to protect me! He was trained as a guard dog."  
  
"But wasn't he here the first time someone broke in?" Joe asked. He realized that although he and Frank had seen no dog that time, Ms. Westerman had said later that she'd had to take him to the veterinarian. Why didn't I think to ask her about it the first time? he thought.  
  
"He – he was in the basement." Ms. Westerman said, after a tiny hesitation. "He spends a lot of time down there, sniffing around. Maybe he smells mice, or something!" She smiled, but the boys remained sober.  
  
"Thanks for your time, Ms. Westerman." Frank got to his feet. "We need to go now. Let us know if you remember anything further about the intruder, won't you?"  
  
"Yes, of course." Ms. Westerman walked with them into the hallway, and Caramel followed docilely. As the boys were about to open the door, the big dog whined and pushed against Joe's leg, demanding to be petted. He laughed, and complied, and Frank followed suit, stroking the shepherd's thick pelt.  
  
Frank got behind the wheel as they prepared to leave, but didn't start the motor right away. Instead, he sat and thoughtfully surveyed Ms. Westerman's house.  
  
"Joe," he said. "I recognized that dog. It's the same dog that Callie and I saw in the park – the one that was attacking the little boy and his mother. It had on the same red collar."  
  
"Ms. Westerman's dog was the one that attacked?" Joe repeated incredulously. "That nice puppy?  
  
"That nice puppy wasn't so nice at the park." Frank said grimly.  
  
"But you said it broke off the attack and just left." Joe ruminated. "Why would it have done that?"  
  
"Dog whistle, I suspect." Frank guessed.  
  
Joe turned his head to survey the teacher's house, and saw a stealthy movement as a curtain was allowed to fall back into place. "You think Ms. Westerman is our culprit?" he murmured. "She wasn't on the list of new teachers that I got from Mrs. Gamble."  
  
"No, I know," Frank agreed. "She was my teacher, too." He turned the ignition key to start the van. "But she was in charge of the carnival booth where I won that teddy bear for Callie." he added. "How would our intruder have known what item to take from Callie's house? Callie has lots of stuffed animals!"  
  
Joe wasn't quite ready to concede that Frank might be right. "What about the male intruder?"  
  
"She could have made him up." Frank theorized.  
  
"But the cut brake line – how would she know what to cut? And how did she manage to break into Callie's and Vanessa's houses while they were at school?"  
  
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "Maybe she has a partner. But there's nothing that says women can't know about cars, Joe; that brake line could be a woman's work as easily as a man's. And I'm willing to bet we've found our web mistress."  
  
"I thought you were convinced it was a guy." Joe reminded him.  
  
Frank gave him a brooding glance. "So I was wrong."  
  
"Okay, just for argument's sake, let's say it is her." Joe said. "Why would she target us? She knows our reputations. She's been at Bayport High for awhile."  
  
"Who knows?" Frank shrugged. "Maybe, because like you said, it would be news. We may not want to make the front page, but that doesn't mean we haven't – repeatedly! We're well known, whether we want to be, or not!"  
  
Joe shook his head, running over the previous days in his mind. "I know – I know, Frank! – that she was there for my class…and if she planted the bomb, she had to have been there after school that same day."  
  
Frank blew out an exasperated breath. "Yeah, I know. Let's just check out her whereabouts while all these things were going on, huh?"  
  
"Okay," Joe acknowledged the wisdom of the plan. "But it's Sunday, and there isn't much we can do right now. Let's go home."  
  
When they reached their home, they found Laura watching a movie on television.  
  
"Hi," she smiled as the boys entered. "I've been checking the story site, but no new posts of chapters, or messages relating to Truth and Consequences or you two have appeared."  
  
"We're getting a suspicious feeling about Ms. Westerman, Mom." Frank said soberly, perching on the arm of the couch. "Too many things don't add up – or maybe they do add up." He and Joe told Laura what conclusions they were drawing.  
  
"I'll call Dorothy Gamble right now," Mrs. Hardy declared. "And talk to her."  
  
"We're going to go out and shoot some hoops, Mom." Joe told her. "Come and tell us if you find anything out from Mrs. Gamble, would you please?"  
  
When Laura finished her call, she went outside. Frank and Joe had been having an intense one-on-one game, and both of them were dripping with sweat. They stopped the game as she approached.  
  
"Well?" Frank asked eagerly.  
  
Laura looked grim. "Ms. Westerman left the school for two class periods, on the day in question." she reported. "Andrew Peabody covered her classes. She had a doctor's appointment – or, so she said."  
  
"I don't suppose you have the name of her doctor?" Frank asked, hopefully.  
  
Laura shook her head, no.  
  
"Opportunity…" Frank murmured. "Motive – the money from the sites…."  
  
"How did she get Mom's credit card number?" Joe asked.  
  
"A hacker could do that," Frank replied. "And we've already figured out she has hacker capabilities."  
  
"We've figured out that the bad guy is a hacker." Joe corrected him. He still wasn't willing to concede that Frank was right; to condemn Ms. Westerman.  
  
"Let's call Phil and see if he's come up with anything new." Frank suggested gently. He knew that Joe was feeling badly about this situation.  
  
Laura held up both hands, halting the boys' progress into the house. "Showers first." she ordered. "And put those soaking-wet shirts in the laundry hamper, please."  
  
"Okay, Mom, okay!" Joe made a move as if to hug her, teasingly. "What? You don't want me to hug you? Oh, my feelings are damaged irreparably…" He broke off, laughing, as she swatted him, and he and Frank hurried up the stairs to clean up.  
  
As Joe was about to log onto the computer, a short time later, the phone rang. Laura picked it up in the kitchen.  
  
"Joe, honey – it's Vanessa!" she called.  
  
Joe got up and went to the kitchen to take the call, as Frank moved into his chair and accessed the mystery website.  
  
No new chapter posted…. Frank noted. I think I may have scared Ms. Westerman a little bit. I'm absolutely positive she's the one responsible for all this!  
  
Joe re-entered the den. "Anything?" he asked, looking at the computer monitor.  
  
"No." Frank shook his head.  
  
"Well, I'm going to meet Vanessa at the park." Joe announced. "You don't mind going to Phil's alone, do you?"  
  
"No, that's fine—" Frank frowned. "I'll take Mom's car to Phil's; you can have the van….but be careful, Joe, okay?"  
  
"Sure, sure, always." Joe assured him, and departed, swinging the van keys nonchalantly.  
  
When Joe reached the park, he got out of the van and looked around for Vanessa's jeep. Hmmm…must've gotten here ahead of her! Joe walked around in the parking lot, noting the presence of an old navy blue Chevy van parked nearby. He walked a bit closer to it, then halted abruptly as he heard loud, menacing barks and growls, coming closer and closer. He whirled around, and found himself confronting a familiar dog – Ms. Westerman's German Shepherd, Caramel.  
  
"Hey, Caramel, it's me, remember?" Joe attempted to calm the big canine as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.  
  
But Caramel was no longer the friendly, furry creature Joe had played with before – he was in attack mode! Snarling and snapping, the big dog forced Joe backwards, towards the blue van. As he reached it, the side door slid open, and Joe suddenly felt the hard pressure of a gun shoved into the middle of his back! 


	15. Chapter 15

Frank drove over to Phil Cohen's house, hoping that Phil had managed to come up with some answers for him. But when he had parked the car and was reaching for Phil's doorbell, Frank found the door being opened by an extremely apologetic-looking Phil.  
"I'm sorry, Frank—" the other boy said, before Frank could frame a question. "I haven't been able to get on the computer – my dad was using it! But we can use it now. Come on in." He quickly ushered Frank inside and led the way to the computer.  
  
The two settled down at the spacious desk, and Frank nervously watched Phil's fingers deftly manipulating the mouse and tapping the keyboard as he searched for the information they desired.  
  
"We want to know who's receiving the money for the ads…" Phil murmured, more to himself than to Frank, as he worked. "…mm-hmm…okay – interesting."  
  
"What's interesting?" Frank demanded, peering at the screen. "The address…"  
  
"It's a direct deposit," Phil said, shaking his head. "But I think I can find out…mmm…come on, baby, tell me your secrets…" More tapping keys. "Well, the receipts go to this post office box." he announced, finally.  
  
Frank copied the number onto a scrap of paper and put it in his pocket. "Now try the vet." he suggested.  
  
"You don't ask for much, do you?" Phil snorted, but he set to work. In a surprisingly short time, he had managed to access files at three local veterinarians. Careful reading showed them that none of the vets had treated Ms. Westerman's dog in the past week…but there was no question that Phil had found the right animal doctor. There it was, a rabies booster shot for Caramel Westerman– two months previously.  
  
Frank needed no more convincing. "It's time to get the police involved in this!" he announced, and reached for the phone. When he was connected with the Bayport Police, he asked for Con Riley, and was astounded to find that the man was actually there!  
  
"What are you doing on duty on a Sunday evening?" Frank blurted out incredulously, when Con picked up the phone.  
  
"I work odd hours." Con replied, chuckling. "What's on your mind, Frank?"  
  
"Remember the two break-ins at 319 Rafferty Street this past week?" Frank began.  
  
Con was silent for a moment. "No," he said at last. "What break-ins?"  
  
"Ms. Danielle Westerman, Joe's English teacher." Frank clarified. "She had an intruder break into her house twice; Joe and I went over both times. We were going to call it in, but she insisted she'd do it herself. She said the police had been there, both times."  
  
"Hang on, lemme look it up." The receiver hit the desktop with a loud clunk, and for a few minutes all Frank heard was vague noises of rustling papers, drawers opening and shutting, and voices and ringing telephones in the background. Then Con returned to the line. "No reports of break-ins at that address." he said. "No reports from anyone named Westerman. Are you sure it was this week?"  
  
"Figures." Frank said bitterly. "Yes, I'm sure." he added, his face becoming one big scowl.  
  
"What's going on?" Con inquired, noting the change of tone in Frank's voice.  
  
Frank explained what had been going on, and about the website with the mystery stories. Con listened quietly, occasionally inserting a comment just to let Frank know he was still there and paying attention.  
  
"And exactly why weren't the police informed of any of this?" Con demanded, when Frank paused.  
  
"That's just it!" Frank cried in exasperation. "Ms. Westerman was supposed to have called the police, but she didn't! I don't know how she knew which part of the car to fix to kill the brakes, Con, and I don't know how she knew anything about bombs, but I'm sure she's guilty of those as well." Frank finished gloomily.  
  
"Hmmm. Well, we managed to get some prints at the time of the fire at your house, Frank." Con told him. "There were prints on the back of the breakfront. If they match this Ms. Westerman's, we'll have her for arson and attempted murder. Still no results from Forensics, but I'm hoping for something yet tonight….I'll see about getting a warrant for her arrest."  
  
"Thanks, Con!" Frank hung up, feeling somewhat relieved. He told Phil what Con had said, and what he was going to do.  
  
"Let's check the website." Phil suggested, doing it even as he spoke. When he reached the story site, his eyebrows shot up. "Frank, look – two more chapters!"  
  
"Two!" Frank gulped in surprise. She had never posted two at a time before. He developed a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he leaned over Phil's shoulder and started reading….  
  
Jeremy had gone to the park to meet his girlfriend…but what Jeremy didn't know, was that his girlfriend, Felicia, had been kidnapped, and forced to make the phone call inviting him to join her….  
  
Frank's face drained of color as he continued reading over Phil's shoulder.  
  
The two teens were taken to a location outside the city, and await a nasty death at the hands of the villain, the principal of the school which Jeremy and Fletcher attend…The principal was playing the tricks on the boys, and plotting revenge for the way he felt he had been treated by the boys' father.  
  
Jeremy and Felicia were now lying bound and gagged in a cave. Surrounded by absolute darkness in the cave, they were lying on the edge of a precipice which dropped some two hundred feet to more rocks below. If either teen moved too far, it would mean death. Even if they managed to loosen their bonds, they would not be able to see to get out of the cave….  
  
By the time he'd finished reading this chapter, Frank's heart was pounding fearfully, and he was sweating as he tried to think of a cave in the vicinity of Bayport with those features. His mind was drawing blanks; there didn't seem to be any sort of match!  
  
"Blast it!" Frank expostulated, as Phil pulled up the next, and final, chapter. "I can't think of any caves like that around here, can you? he demanded, as they waited for the chapter to finish loading.  
  
Phil shook his head as he started the last chapter.  
  
The villain had won. The two teens were left to either fall to their deaths or to die of thirst, and the villain returned to his home, secure in the knowledge that no one had any evidence against him. For once, the bad guy won.  
  
To be continued, the last line ran, in 'Fletcher's Revenge.' 


	16. Chapter 16

Frank grabbed the phone and started dialing. Phil glanced at him curiously, but didn't say anything, and after a moment, it became obvious who Frank was calling.  
"Hello, Vanessa? – oh, hi, Mrs. Bender. This is Frank Hardy. Is Vanessa there?"  
  
"No, Frank, she's not here; she went to the mall a little while ago." came the reply.  
  
"The mall – you're sure she was going to the mall?" Frank queried. "She wasn't going to the park?"  
  
"No, she didn't say anything about the park," Andrea Bender told him. "She said she had some shopping to do."  
  
"Thanks, Mrs. Bender – well, if she comes in, have her call me on my cell phone, okay?….she has the number. Thanks….Goodbye…." Frank hung up the phone. He was feeling decidedly worried, but didn't want to alarm Andrea unnecessarily. He dialed Joe's cell phone number, and listened as it rang…and rang…and rang. When it switched to voice message, he hung up, and turned to Phil, his face ashen.  
  
"She has them."  
  
"You're sure?" Phil was nearly as white as Frank, now.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure." Frank was dialing again. "May I speak to Con Riley, , it's Frank again. Joe and Vanessa Bender are missing, and I think it's possible they may have been kidnapped!"  
  
While Frank was on the phone, Phil had hastily located a map put out by the Bayport Geological Society, which showed the locations of the caves in the vicinity. He was scanning it intently, looking for matches to the cave in the story. As Frank finished his conversation with Con Riley, Phil shook his head, scowling darkly.  
  
"There aren't any caves around here with that kind of topography!" he complained.  
  
"All the chapters have little differences compared to what really happens," Frank reminded him. "But I can't see her leaving them lying out in the open on a cliff!"  
  
"Maybe she plans on dumping them in the sea." Phil hazarded a guess, and then winced when he saw Frank's face. He realized he'd said something that wasn't very comfortable for Frank to hear. "I'm sorry, Frank; that was a really stupid thing for me to say…she won't have dumped them in the sea, don't worry."  
  
"We need to find out what kind of car she drives." Frank said, without acknowledging the apology. "All these times I've been to her house lately, and we must have seen her car in the school parking lot, and I haven't a clue what she drives!" he moaned.  
  
"Maybe someone at the park saw Joe or Vanessa get kidnapped." Phil suggested.  
  
Frank's eyes brightened. "You're right," he said. "Let's head to the park."  
  
When Frank and Phil arrived at the park, they found a police officer listening intently to a group of people who all seemed to be talking at once. Frank saw their van parked nearby, but no signs of either Joe or Vanessa.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked one of the bystanders.  
  
"A German Shepherd dog went after a boy." was the answer.  
  
"Yeah, it attacked him and made him back into a van!" someone else chimed in.  
  
"And someone opened the door and made him get inside, an' the dog got in too, and it took off!" said a little boy, who looked to be about eight years old.  
  
"What kind of van?" Frank demanded eagerly.  
  
"Do you mind?" the police officer interrupted. "I'm trying to fill out a report, here!"  
  
Frank whirled towards him, his dark eyes blazing with incandescent fury. "The boy was in all probability my brother, and he's in a lot of danger!" he snapped. "The person who kidnapped him – and probably his girlfriend too – is planning on killing him! We need to find that van, right away!"  
  
Immediately, several people were offering descriptions of the vehicle in question: Old Chevy…navy blue…rusted front bumper….No, no one had taken note of the license plates.  
  
"It probably belongs to Danielle Westerman," Frank informed the officer in a soft tone so no one else could hear him. "We think she has been behind a number of attacks against my family and may have even murdered the history teacher, Mr. Bartlett, at Bayport High."  
  
The police officer radioed in the information while the crowd dispersed. Frank and Phil, in the meantime, decided to split up and continue their search for Ms. Westerman's van. Phil took Mrs. Hardy's car, and Frank, with a heavy heart, dug out his keys to the Hardys' van.  
  
"Keep in touch by phone, Phil!" were his last words to his friend.  
  
Joe lay on his side in the back of the old blue van, bound and gagged. He had desperately wanted to struggle, to fight back when captured, but between the pistol held to his back and the snarling dog, he had had no recourse but to do as he was instructed. Plus, he thought bitterly, she made sure I wouldn't try anything, by capturing Vanessa first. He had tied his own ankles, and then laid on his stomach while his hands were bound behind him, with Caramel growling ferociously all the while.  
  
They had driven for a time, and then stopped. Ms. Westerman had gotten out, commanding the dog to guard them, and warned the two that if they moved, Caramel would attack. She was gone a short while, then returned, and resumed the trip.  
  
Now, Caramel was lying asleep between him and Vanessa, no longer a threat, merely a big, furry, playful dog, who snored fitfully and occasionally whined in his dreams. Vanessa, too, was gagged and tied, and her big, blue-gray eyes were wide with fear as she stared at Joe over Caramel's head. Joe tried to reassure her with his eyes…but he knew he wasn't succeeding.  
  
At the wheel of the van, Ms. Westerman drove along calmly, maintaining a normal rate of speed.  
  
Finally, they arrived at their destination. The van slowed, turned, and stopped. Ms. Westerman got out, and opened the van's side door. Caramel, instantly awake, bounded out of the vehicle, barking with glee at his release. Joe struggled to sit up as the teacher leaned into the van and untied Vanessa's feet, and then Joe's.  
  
"Stay still until I tell you to move." Ms. Westerman ordered curtly, and reached to the back of her jeans to retrieve her gun from the waistband. She pointed it first at Joe, then Vanessa, then aimed it somewhere between them. "All right, get out of the van. You first," she gestured with the gun to Vanessa, who hastily scrambled to obey the command. "Get out, and stand still." Ms. Westerman added.  
  
When both teens were standing in the driveway, Joe looked around. They were in front of a quaint, two-story house which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. He didn't recognize it.  
  
"Go inside." Ms. Westerman ordered them, and marched them ahead of her into the house. Caramel followed along, docile as a lamb, and occasionally shoving one or the other of them, hoping for attention and a petting.  
  
Joe kept glaring at his English teacher with all the fury he could muster – and Joe could work up a lot of anger when he chose! Finally, after seating her captives in chairs and tying them there, Ms. Westerman pulled Joe's gag down.  
  
"Were you wanting to say something?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Where are we?" Joe demanded. It wasn't what he wanted to say most of all, but it would do for a start.  
  
"My parents' place." she told him. "I actually sold this place a month ago," she went on, "but the new owners are still out of the country. Isn't it sad – when they return, they'll find their new home has burnt to the ground! Tsk, tsk, what a shame – but the insurance will cover their loss.!" She smiled, and Joe was irresistibly reminded of Maleficent, in the Sleeping Beauty cartoon movie. "You see, we're a long way from civilization, out here. A long way from the fire department, too."  
  
Vanessa made a tiny, desperate sound behind her gag, and Joe saw tears fill her eyes. He tried to smile encouragingly at her, but it was a failed attempt.  
  
"I can't believe Frank was right about you." Joe said, shaking his head. He wanted to convince her that Frank knew about her. If she thinks Frank knows, maybe she'll think twice about killing us! he reasoned.  
  
"Your brother is very smart, I realize that." Ms. Westerman was still smiling. "As a matter of fact, I have already decided on the plot for my second story. Frank will be the star."  
  
"It won't work," Joe declared. "We have your web site all figured out. And because of it, we have proof that you're behind everything that happened lately – everything that has been going on."  
  
"What kind of proof?" Ms. Westerman demanded. "I have been very careful!"  
  
"Oh yeah?" Joe retorted. "How about the money from the pop-up ads? Don't tell me your name isn't attached to that, some way. And we know that you were out of school for two classes when Callie's place and Vanessa's was broken into."  
  
"Is that all?" She laughed scornfully. "The money goes into an account which is in my brother's name. And no one would possibly believe that I broke into two houses in the space of two hours, and took nothing of value."  
  
Ms. Westerman leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest and surveying her captives with satisfaction. "As for your brother, I just posted the last two chapters of my story when we made a stop off at my place. Using a fire as a murder method twice in the same story would never be believable, so I wrote something entirely different." She smiled maliciously. "Frank will be searching all the caves near Bayport for you and Vanessa. He'll never think to look in a house in the country!"  
  
She reached out to pull Joe's gag back into place. "I am sorry, you know. It wasn't supposed to get out of hand like this but once it got going, it just became impossible to stop."  
  
"You can stop," Joe told her. "You haven't killed us yet."  
  
"No, but I did kill Bartlett and there was no turning back after that." she said, putting the gag back in Joe's mouth. "Now, you will have to excuse me. I have the most perfect fire to build!" 


	17. Chapter 17

When Frank and Phil parted, Phil had declared that he was going to drive along the shoreline and look for the van near the caves. Frank, however, hadn't wanted to just drive aimlessly, he wanted a specific destination and a reason for going there!  
"I'm going to drive back to Ms. Westerman's house, Phil, and check around to see if she might have left any clues as to where she might take Joe and Vanessa!" he said, and proceeded to do just that. Frank wasn't buying the cave angle - he knew that Ms. Westerman very likely knew that he and Joe had figured out her scheme, and that meant that the clues in the story were no longer valid. She'll do something entirely different this time! he thought. She won't tell the truth in those last chapters, not unless she's really stupid!

He knew she wasn't stupid, but he was beginning to doubt her intelligence just a little bit. She had left a long trail. Proof from the receipt for the ads…proof with the message on the sidewalk - we should have seen that before, it was a literary quote, from 'Oedipus Rex' by Sophocles, for Pete's sake! Why didn't I pick up on it? Now that Frank thought about it, he remembered Ms. Westerman spending time on that line when they had read the play in class last year! Stupid, Hardy - stupid! How could you be so blind? The pictures of the chalked message and her handwriting should match, if an expert worked on them, he thought. And the fingerprints on the china hutch - jeez, she was really getting careless, there at the end! His heart thudded. At the end? That had definitely been a poor choice of phrase….

Frank pulled into Ms. Westerman's street and parked the van in front of her house. There were two police cruisers in the driveway. Frank leaped from the van and ran up the steps.

"Hey, you can't barge in here like that!" A uniformed officer moved to halt Frank's progress as he charged through the front door. Frank opened his mouth to try and explain the situation, when, to his utter relief, Con Riley walked out of the kitchen!

"Con! Boy, am I glad to see you!"

Riley gazed at him impassively, but his eyes were full of sympathy. "Frank…"

"Con, let me look through her things, please! I might pick up on something you won't!" Frank implored.

Riley nodded. "All right, so long as you share any findings with us - got it?"

I will!" Frank promised, and feverishly set to work as Con brought him up to date.

"Garner finished his analysis," he told Frank. "The rag the chloroform was on had the same chemical residue as the perfume. It even held traces of the wash powder she uses. Some hairs that were found in the vacuum sweep of Joe's room has the same DNA as the hairs found in Ms. Westerman's hairbrush."

"You already have it analyzed?" Frank asked in surprise. "I thought that took a lot of time."

"Garner has connections," Riley told him. "When we got the call from the park, we came straight here and he went after the hairbrush and her perfume at once and left with it. I just got the message through dispatch before you got here."

Searching through Ms. Westerman's belongings, Frank found her address book, and began to leaf through it. He noted a couple of URL's listed, along with regular street addresses, and on impulse, he booted up her computer.

Logging on to the Internet, he checked the first URL, and to his dismay, but not much surprise, found it was a site that taught people about do-it-yourself car repair. So that's how she knew what to cut, with the brake lines!

The second URL led him to a site that sold anti-terrorist CD's. "I've seen one of those," Con Riley, watching grimly over Frank's shoulder, spoke. "Their version of anti-terrorism is to teach people to make their own bombs, and the like."

"She learned how to make the bomb that was in Joe's backpack - and the one that blew up his locker!" Frank faltered.

"Raoul, Cliff, keep an eye out for this disk!" Riley ordered Officers Perez and Willkins, and explained to them what they were looking for. "It's definitely evidence that she had the know-how to make a bomb."

The search went on. One of the officers found a half-used box of fat sidewalk chalk, the color matching that which had been used to put the message on the sidewalk at the Hardy home.

Frank remained at the teacher's desk, certain that if anything might provide a clue, he could find it there. He began going through her receipts and bank statements, and found a deposit slip for $97,500, dated the previous month. I wonder why, if she received that much money for something, is she so desperate for more? He kept digging, searching furiously for any indications as to where she had taken Joe and Vanessa.

More papers, more receipts…Frank found himself wading through monthly bills, paid and unpaid. He was beginning to see an ugly picture: Ms. Westerman was deeply in debt. He found statements for four different credit cards, two maxed out at their $10,000 limits, two more also crowding their $5,000 limits. She was really hurting for money!

He dug deeper into the desk drawers, and came up with a sheaf of papers concerning the sale of a piece of property - a house, on the outskirts of town, about three miles from the Morton farm. Here was the source of the $97,500 deposit, although it didn't seem to have made much of a dent in her debts.

Frank wondered briefly if she had a gambling problem. But no - he recalled her mentioning how ill her mother had been before she died. The hospital bills must have been exorbitant for her to get so far behind.

"Con! I think we should try looking here!" Frank thrust the paper with the address printed on it beneath the police officer's nose and shook it impatiently.

Con glanced at the papers and then looked at Frank. "Long shot, kid."

"It's better than nothing," Frank answered him dismally. "And it's all I've got!"

"Okay, I'll take one of the cruisers out there; you take your van." Con made up his mind. "Cliff, you two keep searching here." He activated his two-way radio, and reported where he was going to Dispatch. Frank called Phil, and told him of their intent.

As they sped toward their destination, Frank kept tightly on Con's tail. Riley wasn't using his siren, but he flashed his light bar a time or two when they came to intersections, and people pulled over to let the cruiser pass. Frank swept past them in the squad car's wake as if held there with a magnet.

A mile or so outside of town, in the growing dusk, Frank spotted a vehicle approaching them, and as it neared, he realized it was an older-model dark blue Chevy van. He flashed his headlights at Con, and saw that the police officer had grasped the importance of the van, for he was swinging the cruiser into a U-turn, preparatory to following it.

Frank hesitated a moment, then decided to keep on heading for the house. He was horribly afraid that Ms. Westerman had done something terrible to Joe and Vanessa, and was frantic to reach them.

As he neared his destination, Frank saw dark smoke billowing up into the sky, clear against the sunset light. Heart hammering, he grabbed for his cell phone and punched 9-1-1, to report a fire. He continued driving as he talked, and had just completed the call when he spotted the burning house, and screeched to a halt in front of it. Just to be sure, he checked the address on the paper against the house numbers…they were the same.

Frank leaped from the van and stared at the structure. To his dismay, he saw that the whole roof was afire! The front porch was blazing; impossible to get in that way. Frank ran around the side of the house, hoping against hope that he would find the fire less widespread toward the back.

Joe's gotta be in there! Joe and Vanessa both!….But are they still alive? Frank could feel the heat as he neared the house. He spotted a window which still looked dark - no flames licking at the sill as yet! He tried to open it, but it was locked. Desperate now, Frank pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, wrapped the tail of his jacket around his hand, and used the phone to smash a hole in the window near the lock. He reached his hand through the hole and unlocked the window, then shoved it up in the casement and wriggled through into the house. His cell phone dropped to the floor, but he didn't bother to retrieve it.

No lights were on, and when Frank flicked a wall switch, there was no answering light, but towards the front of the building there was entirely too much light - light provided by the flickering flames!

"Joe! Vanessa!" Frank shouted, and began his search. "Joe!" Smoke was filling the rooms now, making vision nearly impossible, and Frank began coughing as it filled his lungs. The frightening sounds of the fire filled his ears.

There! There they were! Tied to chairs, just as he and Laura had been! Frank stumbled through the smoke and dropped to his knees, fumbling for the cords that bound Joe's hands. Neither teen seemed aware that he was there; Vanessa was hanging limply against her restraints, and Joe was coughing violently through his gag, his eyes shut.

"Joe!" Frank shouted it again, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the flames which were threatening to engulf the whole room. He managed to get the ropes confining Joe's hands untied, and he shook his brother sharply as he pulled the gag from Joe's mouth. "Joe, untie your feet while I get Vanessa!"

Joe gasped, caught a breath, and focused on Frank for a second, shaking his hands to restore the feeling in them. Then he nodded, and bent forward to do as Frank had instructed him, still coughing hard. Frank yanked at the cords around Vanessa's feet, and clawed them loose at about the same time Joe freed himself.

"Can you walk?" Frank bellowed. He lifted Vanessa over his shoulder into a fireman's carry, and then, balancing her precariously, tried to give Joe a hand. Joe staggered to his feet, clinging to the chairs, doubled over in a spasm of coughing.

"Come on, this way!" Frank tugged at his brother's arm, and led the way towards the window he had entered at the back of the house - at least the fire hasn't spread back there yet! he thought, with relief. He gently lowered Vanessa out the window, dropping her to the ground, then turned back to help Joe. Before climbing out himself, he picked up his cell phone from where it lay on the floor, and tossed it out onto the grass.

Once out in the fresher evening air, Joe was able to stagger unaided away from the burning building, as Frank once more scooped Vanessa into his arms and carried her to safety. As they stumbled forward, they could hear sirens blare, and then two fire engines arrived on the scene - followed by an ambulance, and a police car.

Late that evening, still husky-voiced and exhausted but pronounced well enough to leave the emergency room, Frank, Vanessa and Joe lounged in the Hardys' family room, watched over by an attentive Laura, Andrea Bender, and Callie Shaw. Although Andrea had wanted to take Vanessa home immediately from the hospital, the blonde girl had insisted that she be allowed to be in on the whole 'wrap-up,' and Andrea had reluctantly acquiesced. Now, Mrs. Bender was listening avidly with her daughter, as the whole story was told.

Laura had scrambled together some sandwiches for everyone, and made tea and cocoa, and now was content to sit quietly and listen to the discussion. She was happy to have her sons both home, and safe, and in one piece. Well, relatively in one piece, Laura thought, surveying Joe's still-wan face and heard his raspy voice.

"Why, if Ms. Westerman got so much money from selling her parents' house, did she go to all the trouble of getting the paltry amount from advertisers at her web site?" Callie was asking now.

"Two reasons." Frank replied. He had talked with Con Riley at the hospital, while they had waited for Joe and Vanessa to be released. Con had caught up with Danielle Westerman and taken her into custody while Frank was rescuing Joe and Vanessa from the fire, and told Frank that she had confessed to everything. "First of all, she was terribly in debt, with credit card companies and stores and lending companies. She had fallen behind when her mother was ill and wasn't able to get her head back above water. Second, she was being blackmailed by Mr. Bartlett, the history teacher…"

"What?" The exclamation came from several points around the room, followed by a spate of coughing from Vanessa.

"She was being blackmailed by Mr. Bartlett," Frank repeated. "That's why she killed him. He saw her setting up the picture prank on the bulletin board in the hall, and started teasing her about it - but she got so upset, he knew there was something else going on. So then he threatened to tell me and Joe who was responsible for the pranks, if she didn't pay him."

"Wow…" Callie whispered, shaken by this revelation. "But - it was just pranks! I mean - why kill him?"

"She screwed up, too-" Joe picked up the thread, without answering Callie's question. "When she did the thing with Mom's car, she intended to cut the fuel line. But she goofed, and cut the brake line, instead. She hadn't meant for me to nearly be killed…but once it happened, she couldn't back out."

"Yes, she could've." Frank muttered resentfully.

"All because she wanted her web site to be popular - immensely popular." Laura sighed.

"She changed bits and pieces in the story all along." Joe noted. "Brake line in the story was supposed to be fuel line in real life…only she messed up and actually did cut the brake line. And once she realized she had gone too far, and actually endangered my life, she increased the intensity of the attacks, instead of stopping them. The bomb in my backpack was supposed to go off with no one around, but they had finished searching the van and I found it too soon."

"But the bomb in the locker occurred after Bartlett had found out and by then she felt threatened and was trying to eliminate us. She just went after Joe first," Frank put in.

"So money wasn't the only motive at all, to begin with." Laura said.

"No, she just wanted to be one of the most popular sites online, and thought this was a sure-fire way to do it…." Frank paused, and then added regretfully, "…It all got away from her. She smashed her own window, of course - there never was an intruder at her house. She had Caramel trained to attack…"

Joe shuddered, remembering how the dog had relentlessly herded him into the van. Yes, Caramel would have savaged him, had Ms. Westerman given the signal!

"Why did she take my teddy bear, and the other things?" Callie wanted to know. "She didn't do anything with them!"

"She was probably planning to use them for more pranks, but decided against it." Frank speculated. "The police have your bear, Callie, and Vanessa's gold locket, and the photos. You'll get them back, after Ms. Westerman's trial."

"Well, I for one, am glad this week is over!" Laura stated firmly. "It's been a horrendous few days!"

"Going to keep reading those mystery stories online, Mom?" Joe asked teasingly, and she blushed.

"Well…we'll see." she murmured. "I'd like to not read any that remind people of you two, that much I know!" She sighed. "Now, if your father would come home…."

"He said he'd be here on Wednesday-" Joe reminded her, but before Laura could reply, a deep voice interrupted Joe.

"-but I made it home earlier!" Fenton Hardy announced, walking into the room. He had come in quietly through the back door, and was smiling with satisfaction at surprising his family, but as he looked around at the persons gathered in his family room, the smile faded a little. "Why does everyone look so serious? Have I missed something?"

The End 


End file.
